Sunday, December 24, 2006
Luck be a lady/elf/magi tonight!
Like most other people you know, the Betrothed and I decided to kick off our holidays right -- in a casino. This, actually, is our second annual day-trip to Atlantic City, NJ for the Christmas holidays. I thought that the Betrothed's private pilot's lisence was good for, like, trips to mom's without involving I-95, scenic blue-ridge trips in the fall or trips to mom's without involving I-95. Last year, on December 23rd, the Betrothed woke me up (no easy task) and eagerly asked if I'd be up for flying to AC to start the season of our Savior's birth at a roulette table. Can you really say no to that? It would be un-American and down-right un-Christian.
Once we arrived at our casino de jour (The Tropicana -- if for no other reason than that was the one the cabbie took us to last year from the airport and we had a pretty sweet time -- why not head there again and try to duplicate the memories?) the Betrothed gave me a quick kiss and made a bee-line for wherever it was that he wanted to find his money a good home. Big roller that *I* am, I went to a bar and read (which I quite enjoyed seeing as how I wasn't going to be tested on it at any point). Then when I was feeling particularly lucky and ready to roll the dice, I left the bar and went and got a Jersey-style manicure (that I was afraid I'd have to take off promptly after leaving the salon, but it ended up being a very pleasant experience -- regardless of the fact that I have giant red, shiney nails. ) It's not wearing-a-colored-leather-jacket-with-buckles-and-chomping-gum-with-a-giant-perm Jersey manicure, but more like I should be dancing on a stage with The Boss with these meathooks. In any case, it's a sure source of delightful fodder for good, old fashioned Christmas family-mockery when I get to my mom's tomorrow.
A quick rendezvous with the Betrothed and I again found myself alone in a different bar (this one complete with tux-wearing lounge singer who was owning the lounge-style kareoke that backed him up). Needless to say, I got very little reading done this time.
The Betrothed ended up coming out on top -- even with my manicure calcuated "a loss" to the grand total. We hailed a cab to head back to the airport. And that's where I had figured our story would end. Seriously, end. Like, pushing up daisies - end. The cabbie was doing close to 90 on the expressway to the airport, decided only when he saw the cop to slip into his seatbelt and managed to curb the whole cab on a median before we arrived. I focused on maintaining a straight face but managed to see the Betrothed peeling "oops, you loose" tip-bills off of the wad he was setting up to give the driver as payment.
We set up to take off -- but not before I spied a dead fish in the airport's General Aviation's lounge. "Um, I think your fish is dead," I said.
"Is it the gold one?" called the lady.
"Um, nope, it's the dead black one. Or else it's taking a really convincing nap."
"Oh, it's the sucker fish? Maybe it's just sucking." she assured me.
"Um, yeah, just basically sucking at living, really. Unless this is the cue for a Christmas miracle."
They were scooping and flushing as we took off. The beauty of the Cessna flight is how close you really are to the ground. The flight back -- over Atlantic city, Philly, Baltimore and finally, DC was positively a-glow with Christmas lights and jammed parking lots. Over the flight radios, each pilot ended their code-laden shpeel with "...and happy holidays to you all.."
I'm scurrying now to feverishly bake cookies and side dishes for tomorrow's dinner with family. According to those who track it, Santa's already on duty. I assured my neices that Santa would know to leave all our presents with my mom and not come to our empty house.
We carve the roast beast with my mom and all the other Hoos tomorrow -- but I wish you all the very Merriest Christmas -- or the Happiest Holiday.. Whichever you prefer.
*****************************************
CURRENT WINTER BREAK READ NON-TEXTBOOK TALLY: 1.5
Once we arrived at our casino de jour (The Tropicana -- if for no other reason than that was the one the cabbie took us to last year from the airport and we had a pretty sweet time -- why not head there again and try to duplicate the memories?) the Betrothed gave me a quick kiss and made a bee-line for wherever it was that he wanted to find his money a good home. Big roller that *I* am, I went to a bar and read (which I quite enjoyed seeing as how I wasn't going to be tested on it at any point). Then when I was feeling particularly lucky and ready to roll the dice, I left the bar and went and got a Jersey-style manicure (that I was afraid I'd have to take off promptly after leaving the salon, but it ended up being a very pleasant experience -- regardless of the fact that I have giant red, shiney nails. ) It's not wearing-a-colored-leather-jacket-with-buckles-and-chomping-gum-with-a-giant-perm Jersey manicure, but more like I should be dancing on a stage with The Boss with these meathooks. In any case, it's a sure source of delightful fodder for good, old fashioned Christmas family-mockery when I get to my mom's tomorrow.
A quick rendezvous with the Betrothed and I again found myself alone in a different bar (this one complete with tux-wearing lounge singer who was owning the lounge-style kareoke that backed him up). Needless to say, I got very little reading done this time.
The Betrothed ended up coming out on top -- even with my manicure calcuated "a loss" to the grand total. We hailed a cab to head back to the airport. And that's where I had figured our story would end. Seriously, end. Like, pushing up daisies - end. The cabbie was doing close to 90 on the expressway to the airport, decided only when he saw the cop to slip into his seatbelt and managed to curb the whole cab on a median before we arrived. I focused on maintaining a straight face but managed to see the Betrothed peeling "oops, you loose" tip-bills off of the wad he was setting up to give the driver as payment.
We set up to take off -- but not before I spied a dead fish in the airport's General Aviation's lounge. "Um, I think your fish is dead," I said.
"Is it the gold one?" called the lady.
"Um, nope, it's the dead black one. Or else it's taking a really convincing nap."
"Oh, it's the sucker fish? Maybe it's just sucking." she assured me.
"Um, yeah, just basically sucking at living, really. Unless this is the cue for a Christmas miracle."
They were scooping and flushing as we took off. The beauty of the Cessna flight is how close you really are to the ground. The flight back -- over Atlantic city, Philly, Baltimore and finally, DC was positively a-glow with Christmas lights and jammed parking lots. Over the flight radios, each pilot ended their code-laden shpeel with "...and happy holidays to you all.."
I'm scurrying now to feverishly bake cookies and side dishes for tomorrow's dinner with family. According to those who track it, Santa's already on duty. I assured my neices that Santa would know to leave all our presents with my mom and not come to our empty house.
We carve the roast beast with my mom and all the other Hoos tomorrow -- but I wish you all the very Merriest Christmas -- or the Happiest Holiday.. Whichever you prefer.
*****************************************
CURRENT WINTER BREAK READ NON-TEXTBOOK TALLY: 1.5
# posted by Cathy @ 2:03:00 PM 
