An Old Venetian Night

According to Biceps, I went to bed last night at 9pm. What am I, 90 years old? My parents have been in town and they are party animals. On one occasion, my parents hung out with brother and sister-in-law till the wee hours of the morning. I saw the clock strike pumpkin hour and couldn’t keep the eyelids open.

Needless to say, I was pooped when they left. Or, I’m just getting old.

I dreamt of our trip to Venice throughout my nine hours of sleep. I swear that my dream had the appropriate smells of the sea, baking bread, pasta and old stone in it.

I wandered back through the narrow streets, hand-in-hand with Biceps. We ate at familiar restaurants and enjoyed glasses of red house wine.

While we were in Venice (in real life), we enjoyed overcast days-great for being a tourist (lesser people on the street), not so great for being a photographer (flat colors). But even in my dream, it didn’t matter as we grabbed hot espressos and enjoyed the coolness of the day.

I don’t smoke, but it seemed appropriate as all the Venetians do while drinking their coffee. However, one cigarette was enough for me. Yuck.

One of my favorite things about Venice were their ancient bricked garages-no cars, just boats. In my dream, Biceps and I zoomed around the open sea with awesome sunglasses and super fancy white outfits.

At the end of my dream, before the cat woke me up, Biceps and I sat in the plaza eating spaghetti, drinking red wine and feeding the pigeons the bread from our table.

When I woke up this morning, I grabbed my computer and snuck out of the room. Biceps slept while I planned our next trip overseas, starting in Germany, winding our way to the south, north, east and west. With airfare just over 1k a piece-why not?! I carry that kind of chump change in my wallet.

Hah. I guess my dreams will suffice for now.

Two Parents, a Dog and a lot of PDA

My parents are visiting for the week! I love having them around. There’s something amazing about being totally accepted for your weirdness and finding the source to blame simultaneously. This is what they usually look like to me.

Mom tends to wear smaller sleeves, though.

I watched these two and their disgusting PDA all growing up. It was gross, then. But, I’m so very thankful for it now. They are one of the reasons that I’ll continue to smack Biceps on the backside every chance I get until I’m put in the grave.

I had an idyllic childhood-not perfect by no means-but pretty awesome. I wasn’t allowed to do everything I wanted to do, my parents weren’t my best friends-they were my parents, and I had to work for any luxury I wanted to own.
I have been spanked, banned from tv, written several thousand inches out of the dictionary to counterbalance my “misuse of words” (thanks for expanding my vocabulary, guys!), told mom I hated her-once (this did not go well), came home late from curfew, dated boys with mohawks..

But, I always knew that I was protected and loved. Even when I tossed my hair at them and said very sassy things. They loved me, no matter what.

Now that we’re all supposedly adults (I revert from time to time), we get to do this when they come to visit. Yes, we all wear really cool vintage outfits and drink beer.

Our relationship has changed from them being my parents into them being my best friends. I think that’s a good sign of parenting.

Now, it’s just good times, tons of food, and lots of fun. And the occasional beer.