YAY!

The feast was a roaring success!

People really liked it, and we had so much food left over, it was crazy.

Poor Mike never made it. He dropped in a couple times to get his keys, and just to say hello, but he wasn't in garb. I saved him some food, and he was grateful.

I think he intended to go, because his favorite tunic was layed out on his bed, but he was working.

And working.

And working.

And there was a little bit of bitterness surrounding the whole thing, which I didn't really understand, but things happen, eh? I think it was mostly my fault, but really, I'd rather not get in to it.

Of the six gnoche/nut tortes we made, we served three and had pieces left over. We had a dozen lemon curd chocolate cups left over, tons of venison, leek soup, and the bloody carrots. I hope I never see another carrot in my life.

The fish went over well, too, and were completely vegetarian. There was a lot of that left over, but we anticipated that because not many people like cold mashed potatoes. They looked good, though.

So after the feast Mike went home to shower, and then met the kitchen crew and a few others for a small birthday party for Rose at Judy and Janette's place. It was nice.

Mike leaned over and whispered in my ear:

"I think I better take you home."

"To my home, or yours?"

"I think I better take you to my home."

And I certainly wasn't complaining. We made our excuses and goodbye's and he took me home and made some sweet, sweet lovin' to me.

Oh, god, we even had enough energy for a second round.

And then pillow talk. Much talk. About this, and that, and the other thing.

And it was nice.

"I hadn't seen you in a while," he explained, lacing his fingers fondly through my hair, "and I couldn't wait 'til tomorrow night."

"While I like kissing Elmerelda," I explained, "she doesn't make my stomach flip-flop and my groin tingle like you do."

And I slept and he slept and I woke briefly when he kissed me good-bye to go to work, and then I slept soundly 'til 1:30pm.

It was a good night and a good sleep.

"Instead of doing brunch on Valentine's, I'll cook dinner," he said, as I haven't told him I'm working for my father in order to get enough money to take him out for the promised brunch.

"And I'll bring a cake or something," I said, playing the innocent. "Or me in something skimpy."

"Or both. Or you in something skimpy in a big cake."

I laughed. "If I can get the cake down the stairs, sure."

"SCOOOOORE!"

Life is good.

.

Rosie.

Before&After