When the Thrill is Gone

You noticed the announcement on entering What About Bob? today.  I activated the adult content intro to this blog all due to this post and the ever present the Blogger Police. If this notice wasn't activated it's likely they would tag this blog and lock it up.

This post could come under more than a couple of headings:

How much is enough? 

Makes a Mother Proud?

What happens when the thrill is gone?

I can't imagine anyone defacing their body in such a way.  A tattoo or two is one thing.  Covering your body completely in tattoos is yet another.  Regardless of what generation you're in, what's shown here has to be over the top.  Guys?  A real jewel to take home to mother.  Ya think?

Yeah, yeah, it's her body.  But ya just have to think that later in life, when the thrill is gone and all of her pals have grown up, gotten real jobs, real families and live real lives, that she would be left without pals and deeply regret having defaced her body.  That said, this woman has created her own handicap that will to some degree limit what she's able to do in this life. 

It would be tough going to the beach.  Can you imagine this woman attending a swim party put on by her employer?  It would be interesting to listen to the behind her back comments made by her physician or by the operating room crew should she ever go under for a procedure.

It's likely that this woman doesn't really care who thinks what or who says what.  That's today.  How about tomorrow?

Individuality creates an interesting world to live in.  Here's an excellent example of that statement.

Medium Rare or Well Done?

If no one else has I should apply for a patent on these babies.  They'd sell like hotcakes at Home Depot or on E-Bay. 

Don't ask where I got them because I don't.   The photo was picked up off of the Internet.  Some guy who's handy with a torch put this together.  If he selling them I wonder if he has a business plan?  It would be interesting to check that plan out.

Ahh, the perfect gift for someone who has everything but this. 

INTERNET SCAM

I received the following e-mail this morning from what I thought was from a friend.  It was via her e-mail address but something just didn't seem right.  Read on:

"I'm writing this with tears in my eyes, I came down here to London, United Kingdom for a short vacation unfortunately i was mugged at the park of the hotel where i stayed, all cash, credit card and cell were stolen off me but luckily for me i still have my passports with me
.
I've been to the embassy and the Police here but they're not helping issues at all and my flight leaves in less than 3hrs from now but am having problems settling the hotel bills and the hotel manager won't let me leave until i settle the bills.

I'm freaked out at the moment."


So I respond to the e-mail half way thinking it was her but knowing it could be a scam, too.  I offered my help and another e-mail came back once again using the friend's e-mail account:


"Thanks for your quick response I still need help, I have nothing left on me right now and I am lucky to have my life and passports with me it would have been worst if they had made away with me passports.The name of the Hotel is Royal Garden Hotel and you can call me now +447024074504

Well all I need now is just $1,900 you can have it wired to my name via Western Union i'll have to show my passport as ID to pick it up here and i promise to pay you back as soon as I get back home. Here's my info below

Name: Friend's Name was here.

State: London W10 4AH,


Country: United Kingdom

As soon as it has been done, kindly get back to me with the confirmation number. Let me know if you are heading to the WU outlet now???"
 
 
After this last e-mail which doesn't even look like the friend would write I telephone her before doing anything.  My call to her confirmed that she was not in England but at work in the Bay area and was blown away by this whole deal. 
 
The thugs had taken over the friend's Yahoo e-mail account and she can no longer access it.   I also learn that the first message was sent to everyone in the friend's address book.  Hopefully no one takes the bait.
 
There are all kinds of predators in this world just waiting to hurt any one of us in so many different ways.  What a world we live in.

Sunday Dinner

Chicken with roasted root vegetables ready for the oven.  Wifey did an outstanding job of putting this meal together, don't you think?

Back in the day dad would drive the family out to his sister's ranch.   Uncle Ed would get his hatchet, grab the nearest couple of hens and cut their heads off.  With half awe and half horror we watched the headless chickens run around the barnyard which seemed to be an endless amount of time. 

Later that afternoon everyone feasted on fried chicken.   We never gave the race of the headless chickens a thought as we downed a tasty meal of freshly baked rolls, corn on the cob, fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy.

Fried chicken doesn't fit into a politically correct diet these days nor does raising and "harvesting" your chicken dinner.   I guess that would be the good news.  It's nearly a lost art . . . the beheading and feather plucking in the name of a Sunday dinner.  In the name of demonstrating what used to be in America can you imagine a teacher demonstrating to their students the nearly lost art of beheading a chicken?  The teacher would probably make the headlines of the newspaper, parents would be up in arms, the principal would have to bring in grief counselors for the  traumatized children and the teacher would be without a job.  How times have changed. 

Chickens today can mostly be found without their heads, stuffed into "body bags", refrigerated and found in the meat case of your friendly neighborhood supermarket.  Pretty sanitary.  No fuss.  No muss.  No trauma.  No more wondering why the chicken crossed the road....to get away from the hatchet wielding farmer, that's why....

The Rule of Saturday

That would be mom's rule:  Pizza each and every Saturday night.  Mom wasn't the best cook in town.   When Saturday night rolled around brother and I sighed with relief knowing what was for dinner and not some god forsaking concoction of a meal.  Can't screw up pizza.

When it's bitching hot in Cowtown during the summer months it's best not to fire up the oven on a Saturday night.  Instead the pizza stone goes on the Weber and not in the kitchen oven.  Place a little nitty gritty corn meal on the stone which helps to slide the pizza off when it's done cooking, and you've got one hell of a meal.

My problem with making pizza is placing too many things on it.  Besides marinara sauce, Bell pepper.  Slices of white onion.  Sliced olives.  Pepperoni or thin slices of Italian ham.  Cheese.  Anchovies. Sliced tomatoes.  A sprinkling of oregono.  Good pizza.  Bad heartburn.

Trader Joes sells a killer pizza dough all ready to roll out.  Beats making it from scratch.  Saves time and the mess making from scratch creates.  I don't miss the mess of mixing my own pizza dough.  There's usually flour from hell to breakfast.

So mother, where ever you are, it's Pizza Night once again.  Need I mention that it is also Saturday?  I didn't think so.

Here's the New Pup . . . digging it....

http://www.youtube.com/watch#!v=DpIVBbhaDDM

Driving North in the South Bound Lane

Life for some can be like driving north but in the south bound lane.  You're bound to have a lot of near misses if not a head on collision.  You know the rules:  Going with the flow would be easier.  It's hard to swim up stream but easy to go head in the opposite direction.   When life gets difficult check to make certain that you're in the right lane that's headed in the easy direction.  Easy does it applies here.

This blog is turning into a cooking school.  Cooking with Bob the Kook.  Yup.  Last night it was Cornish Game Hens stuffed with wild rice (already cooked) and golden raisins.  Grilled with the middle burner off at 400 degrees for about75 minutes. 

I learned someting new about Cornish Game Hens just this last week.  They were specifically bred to produce only white meat.  Never thought about there not being any dark meat on any of the hens that were eaten over the years.  Did you?

Ready For The Oven

It takes a bit of prep to ready stufffed peppers for baking.  When it comes to baking stuffed peppers I always use an old cast iron dutch oven that once graced the cupboards of my mother.  It's an oldie but a goodie.  Can't really abuse something like that. 

So, here they are.  Ready for the oven. 

Little dog with no name slept through the whole cooking prep process. She slept on her back and snored while I toiled over a hot oven.  A pup needs their naps.   Our other Pom, Zeenie, hates the sound of pots and pans and the chopping of veggies.  She hightails it into the master bedroom until the comotion is over with. 

It's another rainy day in Cowtown.  There's a fire in the woodstove.  The three dogs are napping.  Relaxing music is being piped through the house thanks to Sirius radio.  Bob is all smiles.

Stuffed Peckers

Okay, I got your attention.  The heading should have read, "Stuffed Peppers".  Who would ever think of stuffing peckers anyway?

Tonight it's on the menu.   Peppers, not peckers.  Stuffed peppers is an old family recipe I make now and again.  It's easy.  They're tasty.   Provides a nice aroma that floats through the house.  Everyone loves them.

If you've not tried this dish and you like green, red, yellow or orange peppers, you really should give it a whirl.  Google stuffed peppers and pick the recipe that sounds good.  You can't go wrong. 

Hi ho it's off to stuffing I go!

Plain Old Tuckered Out

The little one runs around until she crashes.   Last night Wifey commandeered Papa's easy chair to sit with the dog and watch the latest installment of HBO's Big Love.  Wifey sat down and within seconds peewee was lights out.  Not even the bright light from the camera flash got her attention.

Have you ever watched Big Love?  It's about a guy, a Moron dude, who takes on three wives.  They all live in separate houses with connecting backyards.  Big dad takes turns spending nights with each wife.  Gads.   Living in harmony with one wife is hard enough but three?!  Is this guy ever stupid or what. 

I don't know why we take our time to watch Big Love.  It certainly isn't the lure of a plural marriage.  Maybe it's the interesting story line that brings us back each Sunday. 

Anyway, peewee wasn't buying any of it as shown here with her happily snoozing through the whole episode. 

It's What's Her Name

 

Chosing a name for a new pup is like choosing a name for a new born kid.  Too many choices.  Too many suggestions.  Too many names that just don't fit.  Naming this pup is taking time.

The Rule of the Red Ball

Our new pup is learning pecking order.   She's also learning not to take Zeenie's favorite ball.  If the ball is red and squeaks, paws off!  This would be lesson #1 as she learns to get along with the elder Poms.

In the first photo you see a block by Zeenie in keeping the little one at bay and away from her red ball.

The little one is not easily intimidated.  She waits for just the right moment and often steals the red ball right out from underneath Zeen's nose.  Zeenie's pretty smart and quick to react which makes this not an easy task for the little one.

The little one is slowly crawling towards the red ball that's to the right of Zeen's rear flank.  She's thinking that she can outsmart two year old Zeenie. 

More times than not Zeen wins out in the pecking order contest (a lot of staring and growling, then takes the ball and heads to a place that's safe for her to kick and toss her red ball about. 

Today we shop for a crate for the new little puppy to sleep in and for a small harness that will help her learn to walk on leash.  Teaching a young pup new tricks is not an easy task but she's a smart one and will catch on quickly.  Now bad for a tender age of 10 weeks.

For those of you in knee deep in snow, yesterday it was total California sunshine and close to 70 degrees as evidenced in these photos.  Eat your hearts out, people!

Dude, Where's Your Bra?

Gee, Jack Nicholson...are those B or C cup boobies?  You'd think a guy his age would (A) Take a little pride in their appearance, (B) Not pork out and grow titties or (C) Put a shirt on when your body looks like shit.

My gawd Jack, getta bra or lose some weight.

I should take the dude sailing this summer.  He's be a real hit with the other sailors.

"Can I get your autograph and feel your boobies, too?"

TGIF drinks tonight at the Elks Lodge.  Bottoms up, people!

A Long Story Short

A friend lost her 10 year old Pom unexpectantly to illness several weeks ago.  She's crushed.  It was suggested she find another dog to help ease the pain.  She says she will think about it.

She works.  She's busy.  She doesn't have time to raise a puppy.  Given those considerations it was suggested she find an older Pom to adopt, one that was good to go, house broken and self sufficient.

The friend says she will think about.  She's given several leads on fairly young Poms needing a home.

Telephone rings today.  It's the friend.  She has driven to Sacramento this past weekend and bought a 10 week old female Pom.  Three days later she has discovered that it's too much for her to raise the pup  - too busy, no time, never home - - - - what was she thinking? --- and wants help finding a home for the dog. 

This morning Wifey drives across town to see the friend with the idea of encouraging her to keep the baby Pom and to offer help raising it.

After a couple of hours of chit chat and crying, the friend says "no go" to any help but just wants to divest herself of the dog.  The friend says that she is still grieving for her lost animal and it's too soon to have another.  Gee, should have thought about that before forking out 500 bucks for a puppy.

Late this morning Wifey comes home with the puppy.  She announced that we have a new addition to the family.  I smile knowing that this would probably happen.

End of story.  Was it long or was it short?  Whatever it was it was definitely not a shaggy dog's tale. 

P.S.  The new pup doesn't have a name yet.  We're working on it. 

Who Wouldn't Want One?

Baby pups and kittens:  Who can resist not wanting one?  Damn, is she cute or what?!

I know one grown dog that can resist this new addition to our kennel.  What we have here is a case of "Who the hell is this and why is this four legged hound in my space?" 

Now children.  We all have to get along here....

You can see here that Wifey is holding onto Zeen to keep the peace between the new step sisters. 

The pup will grow to be about the same size as Zeenie and weigh in at about 8 -10 pounds. 

Looking Like Spring But Feeling Like Winter

I shot this a couple of days ago.  The sun was out.  Birds were singing and bees humming.  An ornamental pear tree just outside the kitchen window was in full bloom.  That's not unusual as it blooms this time of the year every year.

It may look like spring in this photo but it's really winter.  Today the weather has changed.  It's rained.  It's been cloudy.  And it's been California cold- - - winter cold in California is like high 40's at noon. 

Fire in the wood stove takes the California chill off. 

Just another day in Cowtown.  How sweet it is.

One of Those Days

There are nights when I suddenly I'm awake.  Middle of the night and awake for no apparent reason.  So, I get up.  One of the best things about being up at an ungodly hour is being able to walk around in the dark.  I love roaming the house, no lights on, dark as hell and successfully navigating every obstacle without a problem.  It's an exercise in seeing what's it is like to not having eyesight.

This morning was just one of those sleepless night and I roam about the house.  Hmmm, I think....think to hit the john.  To the guest bathroom I go navigating the way with out stretched arms that tell me when I'm too close to a wall or if there's a door I'm about to collide with.  Once there I lift the lid and sit down (when there are no lights on it's easier to hit the "mark" this way when you're doing one thing and not two).

The lid I thought that I was lifting was really the toilet seat.  I sit down and kerrrplunk!  Deep down and into the toilet bowl I go.  I had to laugh because this would be a trick I would have loved to have played on someone else. 

And that's how Bob's Wednesday started out. It can only get better.

Monday Humor

When we launched Sparkle Plenty into the lake we were assigned berth 70.  It was difficult maneuvering SP out of the berth so we asked for and were assigned berth 74 - opposite to berth 70.  It still was a bear to get out of berth 70 so we asked for and got another berth wayyyyy down the dock, almost the last berth in the marina, closest to open water.

Berth 96 gets lots of weather.  During a storm SP takes a pounding.  During the last heavy storm boats docked around her took on water, their dock lines snapped during 50mph winds and were damaged while adrift.  SP was secure.  No damage. Dock lines didn't snap all due to being tethered correctly.  But I'd like to be closer to the center of the marina, same side of the marina as it makes for easy in and easy out especially if I single hand the boat. 

So I asked for and got the berth next to where SP is now.  The new location is an improvement only because it's one slip closer to water and electrical outlets. 

Today I'll move the boat next door.  Then plot to get yet another berth closer to the middle of the marina.  Bob can be that squeaky wheel and Bob does get oiled ......in more ways than one. 

Here's a little Monday humor to start the week off with a smile . . . or is that a smirk on your face?

What Will it Be?

I can feel it coming on.  It's that old feeling there's a fork in the road that's just over the next hill and I've got to choose which one to take . . . a feeling there's change coming that gently washes over me time after time after time.  It doesn't come often but when it does, look out. . . . the times, they are a changing. 

This always happens when day in day out same old shit gets boring.  Like Ground Hog Day . . . remember the film?  Wake up every morning to a life where today will be just like yesterday is the constant denominator.  And it never goes away.

This feeling for change I'm talking about came years ago when Wifey was on vacation in Hawaii.  I was fed with with work.  Fed up with my surroundings.  Change had to come or I was definitely going to go nuts.  Stark raving banana's nuts. 

So I did it:  Without consulting Wifey in Hawaii I put the house up for sale and actively shopped to buy a business on the Northern California coast.  Be certain of this:  I walk the walk and just don't talk it.

When Wifey arrived home all tan, rested and happy from her two weeks in Hawaii and saw that the house was for sale the shit really hit the fan.  But she got over it.  Wifey always does.  We sold the house anyway.  The business I wanted to buy didn't pan out so we stayed in the same town, worked the same jobs and bought a new house a couple blocks away.   I got a promotion which made working in the same place a bit more palatible. 

Five years later when enough of the same old shit got to both of us..... we made the change and moved to a small town right on the ocean.  Wifey wanted to go into the retail produce business.   We found and bought a small market in a great location right across the street from the ocean.   Fruit and vegetables were sold March through October, then Christmas trees in December.  I found a job heading a small school district 20 minutes north of where we were living. . . also right on the ocean.   It was like an Ozzie and Harriet life we were living but without David and Ricky.

Soon after buying the business the word got out our high quality of fruit and vegetables.   Restaurants up on the down the coast were soon buying from us which launched a wholesale produce side of our existing business. 

To stock our market I'd drive the flatbed truck we had bought to the San Francisco wholesale produce market a couple of times a week.  Got there at 10 or 11 at night.  Handpick the very best fruit and veggies.  When the truck was filled to capacity (it had a 12x8 foot bed surrounded by 5 foot rails), I drove north along Highway One and back home.

Once home we unloaded the truck at the market, vegetable and fruit racks were then stocked and then it was usually time for me to go to my day job leaving Wifey to sell what had just been brought in.

The produce market was wildly popular.  As a result it brought in an income of six figures every year we were in business.  

So, as this need for change washes over me I wonder what will it be....what fork in the road will I take?    A business venture?  A move to an exotic environment (and we're not talking Vegas here, people)?  Or will it be the same old shit....and no crazy shit? 

Same old isn't so bad.  It's great life and I really have no cause for any complaint what so ever.  Same old just wears on me.  Shaking up "same old" might be the better choice.  Maybe redefining day to day stuff who that it is not so "usual" would make a difference in my attitude.  Save the crazy for another day?  Probably a good idea.

But sending Wifey on vacation in Hawaii and putting the home up for sale while she's gone still sounds like a fun thing to do.  Once a Bob always a Bob.....or so the saying goes.

In case you ever wondered . . . . .

Bacon to Chicken

Okay, off the bacon kick and back to chicken.  Lower in fat.  Much lower in sodium.  Better for you unless you speak Vegan.  Then it's no chicken and a lot of other things, too.

Last night Bob cooked this.  You'd have to really dig to find any place that can prepare something as scrumptious as this.  I mean it. 

Can't take credit for the recipe.  It's from Giada DeLaurentis on Food TV.  Giada hangs her boobs out while cooking which makes watching her cook more interesting.  Women complain to Food TV about the hanging out the boobs while cooking deal.   Nonetheless Giada keeps hanging them out.  Guess it makes for higher ratings.  I think hanging boobs out if you got them to hang out is the fad.  Don't you see a lot of ladies doing that? 

In case you're feeling creative here's the recipe.  Follow it to the letter and you can't go wrong. . . well, almost to the letter.  I used two large skinless chicken breasts instead of what's called for which really didn't change anything other than add all white meat instead of a mix of white and dark.  There's enough sauce involved to use four breasts instead of two.

By the photo you can see that I served the Cacciatore over noodles.  Carrots and corn were sides to this entree. 

Chicken Cacciatore by Giada
Prep Time: 15 min

Cook Time: 40 min

Level:  Easy - - Even Bob can do it.

Serves: 4 servings

4 chicken thighs

2 chicken breasts with skin and backbone, halved crosswise

2 teaspoons salt, plus more to taste

1 teaspoon freshly ground black pepper, plus more to taste

1/2 cup all purpose flour, for dredging

3 tablespoons olive oil

1 large red bell pepper, chopped

1 onion, chopped

3 garlic cloves, finely chopped

3/4 cup dry white wine

1 ( 28-ounce) can diced tomatoes with juice

3/4 cup reduced-sodium chicken broth

3 tablespoons drained capers

1 1/2 teaspoons dried oregano leaves

1/4 cup coarsely chopped fresh basil leaves

Sprinkle the chicken pieces with 1 teaspoon of each salt and pepper. Dredge the chicken pieces in the flour to coat lightly.

In a large heavy saute pan, heat the oil over a medium-high flame. Add the chicken pieces to the pan and saute just until brown, about 5 minutes per side. If all the chicken does not fit in the pan, saute it in 2 batches.

Transfer the chicken to a plate and set aside. Add the bell pepper, onion and garlic to the same pan and saute over medium heat until the onion is tender, about 5 minutes. Season with salt and pepper.

Add the wine and simmer until reduced by half, about 3 minutes. Add the tomatoes with their juice, broth, capers and oregano.

Return the chicken pieces to the pan and turn them to coat in the sauce. Bring the sauce to a simmer. Continue simmering over medium-low heat until the chicken is just cooked through, about 30 minutes for the breast pieces, and 20 minutes for the thighs.

Using tongs, transfer the chicken to a platter. If necessary, boil the sauce until it thickens slightly, about 3 minutes. Spoon off any excess fat from atop the sauce (if you use skinless chicken there will be no fat to spoon off).

Spoon the sauce over the chicken, then sprinkle with the basil and serve.

One of Bob's Favorite Sayings

There's a bunch of sayings or phrases I use over and over and over.  You've read a few here.  Then there's this one:  Damed if you do and damned it yo don't. 

As I often use this saying there's naturally been a lot of practice.  It may come in handy one day......ya think?

One High Roller

In case you missed it, the America's Cup is coming back to the USA.  BMW/Oracle won the last race Sunday against Switzerland's Alinghi.  What's equally great is that the San Francisco Yacht Club co-sponsored BMW Oracle.  This means the next Cup race in three years from now could take place in the San Francisco Bay area, just a hop, a couple of skips and a large jump from Cowtown.

Oracle (software manufacturing) is owned by Larry Ellison who contributed a major portion of the 400 million US dollars to build a Cup boat.  Ellison also owns Sun, another software/hardware company.  He's worth 27 billion US and the fourth richest man in the world.  While it took a lot of bacon to build the Cup boat, this guy has a lot of bacon in the bank.  Larry Ellison is one high roller.

During the Cup campaign in Spain Larry camped out in his 453 foot yacht seen here, the Rising Sun.  It's the 6th largest yacht in the world and was built at a cost of 200 million US.

Ellison is a self man made who was raised by an adoptive family in Chicago.   Never knew his birth mom or dad.  Didn't have that silver spoon gift of wealth to start out with but just was in the right place, the right time, with the right brains and capitalized on the rapid growth of technology to make his fortune. 

What's also amazing is that Larry has three ex-wives and still managed to come out on top.  Guess they didn't get half of everything.  Ya gotta love those pre-nups. 

Whatta dude.

Would that be a D or a Double D?

Okay, I'm on this bacon kick.  What would it be like to wear a bra like this all day all the while surrounded in bacon aroma?  The store selling these bras would be chuck full of bacon smelling stuff.  Think about working in that place all day?  You'd come home smelling like a BLT.  Think they would sell bacon perfume?

Take a walk wearing one of these babies and every dog in the neighborhood will be chasing after you.  Woof!

How would you like your bacon?  In a pan?  Microwaved?  Made into a bra?

I'll take my bacon fried and placed in a lettuce and tomato sandwich.  Yum.

How Do You Like Your Bacon?

When ordering breakfast every waitress in every restaurant I've eaten in asks, "How do you like your eggs?"  Wise Ass Bob in response alway says, "Cooked in a pan."

Yesterday I find this photo, just when I've thought that I have seen everything,  which brought out a new prospective when dining out for breakfast:  How do you like your bacon?  On a pair of boobs?  On a bush?  Or in a pan?  Is some bacon in the hand worth two on the bush?  Ben Franklin never looked at bacon this way.

I'm thinking this picture is a reflection of photographic food art at its finest.  This might be the beginning of a new fad in beachwear.  Bacon strip bikini's.  Or could this be the foundation for a bacon commercial.  An ad featuring bacon that's worn during the Superbowl it would sure to be a hit.  Make mine bacon . . . on a couple of good looking broads.

Or, maybe someone will open a Bacon Sushi restaurant with bacon served like what's shown on the photo.  Bacon buffet. 

How do people think of photographing things like this?  Is it a matter of an artistic mind . . . or, was it someone who's hooked on bacon, or would it be part of their perverision - a fetish?  Never heard of anyone with a bacon fetish, have you?  Interesting thoughts to share at the next cocktail party.   I'll have to print a copy of this photo and share it for conversation over drinks.

When What About Bob? gets random hits from those in cyberspace land, the hits come from a Goggle search.  What brings some to this blog via Google is a post I authored in August of 2008.  The post features a woman whose boob job went south.  Both nipples were apparently taken off and reattached.  Consequently one looks up and the other down.

When first posted the meter that counts visitors here went wild.  Like this blog was seeing hundreds of visitors every day for about a week all due to the attention it got on another popular website.  The site suggested a visit to the What About Bob? blog to check out the boob job gone bad.  Maybe the publication Popular Porker will pick this post up and suggest to their readers to take a look see here. 

Ya think?

BTW:  How DO you like your bacon, kiddies? 

Dinner Dinner Birthday Winner

Dinner at Nello's last night, a birthday dinner.   Happy is as happy does. 

Dawn and Keith helped to celebrate.

Bob was put in charge of guarding the wine.  It was a special bottle of Zin from home reserved for this occasion.  This photo catches me in the middle of a sentence.  I think I was saying, "I'll drink to that!" for the umteenth time. I love being in charge of the wine.

Wifey had lemon chicken, Gracie ate spaghetti and ravioli's, Dawn ordered Cannelloni, Keith munched down a NY steak and Bob feasted on veal with Italian ham, peas and mushrooms.