Tattoos and Strip Poker!

Okay. Sorry to say, but this is the last story from Las Vegas! But I’ve actually included TWO stories in ONE post. First one is about how the poker room at the Stratosphere (where we like to play since it’s non-smoking) had no seats available during normal (read: human) hours. Since my husband and I pretty much play only Texas Hold ‘Em (hey! We happen to be from TEXAS), we took our own deck of cards and headed to our room. DH challenged me to a game of Strip Poker. I should have known that my husband would resort to anything to see me sans clothing. I was winning (still had all my clothes on) and thought things were going my way…until my husband brought two ladies to bed. I was crushed.

As Dr. Phil would say: “That’s a Deal Breaker!”

My hubs knocked me out of the game with pocket Queens! Heehee.

As for the tattoo: I intended to get a wedding band tattooed on my ring finger, knowing that next month I wouldn’t be able to wear it much. Massage Therapy means NO JEWELRY. I had no specific idea in mind of what I wanted (never a good thing when going to an ‘artist’ who doesn’t know me). We saw Celine, and I loved ‘I’m Alive’, and decided to have those words permanently decorating my hand. Quite a conversation starter, lemme tell you!

I took the photo myself (as if you couldn’t tell) only minutes afterward on Thursday. No, I didn’t rush out to get it the same night as the concert. I waited for a few days! I’m crazy. Not stupid. Yes, it hurt. I had three c-sections, but they gave me some nice anesthesia for those. Yes, I’m certain I want it for the rest of my life. I want to tell every-freaking-body who will listen about the miracle of my life.

*sigh* So that’s it. Thank You for allowing me to relive our week in Las Vegas as I typed the stories. We had a great time. Made some lasting (and some permanent) memories. We’ll go back…eventually.

**Just an update** If you haven’t seen my nephew, Aidan, lately (God knows you haven’t) my younger sister posted a photo of the beast Little Man recently. His first birthday isn’t until November, and he already outweighs my littlest daughter, who’s approaching THREE. My sister and I chat at least once a week, maybe more, so I reminded her recently of the words our Italian grandmother used to yell at her kids (my father included): “I hope you grow up and have six children just like you!” I know that I’m raising Mini-Me times three!


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