I woke up sometime last week from a loud cupcake buzz. They're everywhere all of the sudden. What happened? Did I accidentally get involved in a tidal wave trend? Damn, that wasn't my intention. Kind of deflates the fun. I heard one cupcake shop owner say, "Cupcakes are not trendy. We are revitalizing an old tradition." Isn't that the same thing? Maybe I should bring back the taffy pull. Open a Taffyeria. Be the first one to "revitalize" that tradition.
I gotta say, ALL the fun isn't gone. Not at all. They're still precious and perfect and beautiful and delicious, the cupcakes. And cupcakeria is still fun to say. Even if cupcakes get thrown off the runway by next fall, I'll still have the love. Heck, I still wear gauchos.
Tomorrow, we're off to Las Vegas. Road trip! We're dropping the girls off at BD and Sanne's house, who live in Vegas, and then Husband and I are going to yuck it up on the strip for our 9th wedding anniversary. I gotta say, 9 is better than 8. And 8 was better than 7. How does this happen? I don't know, but I'll nurture the shit out it until we're in our 80's groping each other to the humiliation of the general public. He just smells so good, and his hands are magical, and his black-eyed stares can still jolt my stomach. He's just so damn sexy. And he loves me and is good to me, which are the best tools in his sexy bag. For our Vegas trip, we saved up to do it upscale. I'm not a downtown, penny-slot, jean-shorts, plastic-drinking-cup-in-my-hand-at-all-times Vegas girl. I'm a high-fallutin’, fancy-pants Vegas type. Even if I have to save all year to lounge one day in a spa like I'm a goddamn regular, that's fine with me. Siegfried and Roy and All-You-Can Eateries? Hell no. I'm going swanky or room service. And I suggested we see Zumanity which is the racy Cirque du Soleil show. My husband's eyebrows rose when I suggested that. I said, "They're pretty much naked and writhing around in the regular show so what could be the big difference?" I may eat those words later considering I'm somewhat of a pornaphobe. I've decided I'm gonna bust out my best Sophia Loren/Dorothy Dandridge gear. And wear red lipstick. And a push-up bra, which I do not need. Usually I'm trying to strap the girls down, keep them on the DL; they can be such greedy attention getters if I let them. But the booty? I let her shine all she wants even during my every-day life. No strapping her down. She's got a will and a sway all her own.
Nine is down-right confident. Nine feels like an accomplishment. Nine is still sporting a leopard-skin pencil skirt or wearing his jeans just how I like them. Nine is red lipstick and sweats. Nothing is ever home free, but he and I? We’re a lock.