It was on a Saturday, about a week or so before Thanksgiving, I was flying home from a business trip to London. The flight was not going so well, the plane had unexpectedly landed in Boston. Everyone, including myself, watched the security guards dash on board to carry the passenger off the plane...not unlike a piece of luggage! I was later told that the passenger had way too much to drink and had been causing a lot of ruckus. I and my fellow neighbors sat on board making small talk trying to take our mind off the flight. We arrived several hours later to Hartsfield International Airport...finally after getting through security, very tired, only to have to search the parking lot for my car!Early evening, I arrived at my apartment on Peachtree Road schlepping my suitcase filled with Harrods teas, shortbread, and dirty laundry and anxious to tell Not-Yet-Hubby about my adventure. As soon as I walked in the door, plopped my keys and bags down I headed to my bedroom and started to rattle off to Not-Yet-Hubby about my day. It appeared to me as though, Not-Yet-Hubby was not too interested, he went into the kitchen (I was hoping he'd fetch me a glass of wine) but returned with this! The rest, we'll say, is history!
R.I.P. Rolle: Oct 1 1995 - Nov 23 2009
P.S. to the two-bit thief who smashed in my car window and stole my purse this past Saturday. My cards have been cancelled, driver's license number changed, social security notified, all locks changed, cell phone replaced. But what you did take, Mr. Thief, something that I can never replace, are my last remaining pictures of my basset hound. If you want the GPS that you stupidly left behind I will gladly let you have it in exchange for my phone, with the pics of my basset hound. Let me know... I believe you have my number!