Sunday, January 21, 2007

Dear W4D,

I thought you might like to know what I had for dinner tonight. It's Spa Week here at Casa de Flaurella.

"Batchin' it"

While you are living it up in a fancy, schmancy hotel, I am eating healthy and running around buck nekked and there is nothing you can do about it. I don't even want to wear one of those fluffy terry robes or sleep on those fancy linens. I put flannel sheets on the bed so I can be all snuggly and warm. Flannel is much cozier than Egyptian Linen, dontcha know.

I can drink martinis, as many as I want, for FREE. I can hug and cuddle with Tucker and eat peach ice cream (if I wasn't on my spa diet.) Ahem. Tucker had doggy ice cream earlier, made of carrots. He's on the Spa Diet, too.

I hope your ass falls asleep tomorrow from all the meetings. I hope you have to eat tiny little greasy chicken fingers for lunch. Did you realize that you forgot the martini travel kit?

Just so you know, we aren't at all jealous. :P

kiss, kiss.


ChrisMoose said...

Good lord woman! How many toonies had you had when you wrote that? ;-)

Flaurella said...

Only six toonies and it was a balmy night with a Gator Sunset (orange and blue). Clothes were not a necessity. Okay, so I was a wee bit jealous and pouting a tad but I was greeted when he got home with two dozen, fresh red tulips and a bottle of wine. Course, I meet him at the door with the wafting aroma of pot roast in my hair. (6 hours of saturation) The house smelled delish and looked pretty cozy, so as not to ruin anything, I had semi-clothed my bod and only Tucker was totally nekked.

W4D's eyes roughly moved over me, past my "Got Champioships" shirt and across my rousled hair to behind me at the stove were the roast was bubbling and steamimg. I haredly got a kiss before he was at the stove, ifting the lid and sniffing the contents of the Dutch kettle.

Sanne said...

The way to a mans heart goes through his stomach - as we say in Denmark! :) You're on the right track, Flaurella.