Tiara the Terrible

This weekend I was supposed to get some serious writing done. I'm tired of writing essays and I wanted to work on a story. But the universe, and one wily SuperNurse, thought not.

Saturday I took Ya-Ya to lacrosse. While she practiced cradling and snaking and all the other things which require too much exertion for me to think about, I alternated between staring at my notebook and catching my head before it fell over onto the folding table. Which never looks very graceful. Not that I'm celebrated for my grace, but narcoleptic twitching isn't the image I generally promote.

Saturday night Tiarra and Ghosthunter had us over for dinner. Tiarra had this Chardonnay that tasted just like white grape juice. I happen to love wine that doesn't taste like wine. So I had a couple glasses of that and a magnificent surf and turf dinner. Tiarra is not only a supernurse, but also a sorceress in the kitchen. After dinner, she pulled out some big funky martini glasses and made us some sour apple martinis. After I drank all the sour apple stuff, she switched me to mango. And when I drank all of that she gave me three cups of coffee with Baileys. And I'm not sure, but I think I vaguely remember her cackling. Finally, well past my bedtime, Ghosthunter came home and I remembered I was supposed to go on a ghosthunt that evening. But, Tiarra said we had fun, and I'm in no position to argue. I just wish I could remember.

So naturally Sunday was not a most auspicious day for writing. It wasn't good for much, actually. But Tiarra did come roust us for an invigorating bike ride in the vast frozen tundra of the local track. Luckily she knows how to cure frostnip.