One of the high points of my recent vacation was meeting a lady who loved puns as much as I do. We sat, drank some really nice wine and let the cheese flow. Soon other guests decided that we were having too much fun and they offered their favorite ditties, as well. It became a buffet of all different flavours; cheese of every variety. Even those who consider themselves connoisseurs of a good joke had a rolling good time. (However, that might have been due to the amounts of wine imbibed, and not due to the quality of the cheese…)

So it is with great flourish and trumpeting that I present to you, dear internet, this piece of cheese. It is rank with odour, leaves a strong after taste, but works really well with a nice Cabernet. Enjoy!

The zoo keeper in charge of the sea mammals was trying to train an otter to walk backwards. He was not having any success. He asked a coworker to see if she could do any better.

Lo and behold, a few days later, the otter was walking backwards.

Amazed, he asked his coworker, “How did you do that?”

“Simple,” she said, “You put one foot in front of the otter.”

I survived. It wasn’t pretty, at times it certainly wasn’t easy, but as the old adage goes, whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

More importantly, I didn’t kill my mother. Or even maim her. For that, I’d like to take the time to appropriately thank the people responsible for such a Herculean feat.

Kevin Brauch, a.k.a. The Thirsty Traveller on the Food network, you are a good man. You didn’t need to convince me of the joys of Jagermeister, (me and ole Jagger go wayyyyy back), but I am certainly thankful you shared your stash with me. You were soley responsible for my mother surviving Monday night after I was stuck in a vehicle with her for over six hours through a snow storm.

I should also thank Steven and Drew, who took it upon themselves to keep me in supply of Jack Daniels and a wonderful cabernet from Beringer’s through out my trip. Without those two fine gentlemen, I most certainly would have throttled my mother on Tuesday, after listening to her tease me about how only cheap tramps get tattoos.

I may be a tramp, mommy dearest, but I assure you, I am most certainly not cheap. Ask my husband. He’ll tell you.

I’d also like to thank Clyde, a 70+ year old gentleman who hand delivered a beautiful bottle of burgundy to my table, as thanks for simply reminding him of his wife in her younger days. Apparently, I am a spitting image of his beloved Eleanor in her hay day. He misses her dearly.

And a special thanks to Gordon, a fellow journalist who I ran into at the resort. I love the fact that you gushed about me to my mother and kept telling her how talented I was and how lucky she was to have me as a daughter. I never asked him to sing my praises, but it sure felt good when he did.

And yes Mom, I do realize he was hitting on me. I wasn’t blind. Only drunk.

All in all, the week was a success. At least the part of it I can remember.

But it is good to be home. Safe in the arms of my Boo, and far, faraway from my mother.

Well dear internet, I am off. Soon I will be squiring my mother to a mountain resort to begin the mother-daughter bonding process.

Either we bond, or I will be locked up in the clink, waiting to make bail after I choke the life out of her.

I figure it’s a crap shoot either way.

I won’t be posting, but I will be out here, lurking and hanging on your every word. (Because when I’m hanging on your words I won’t have to be listening to hers…)

And don’t worry, I will have fun. Jose Cuervo and Dr. Sambucca are good friends of mine. I plan on catching up with the boys while I’m away.

Be back on Friday, and play safe people!