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Scrubs, Rubs and Pubs

A run along the palm tree studded beach this morning. Laying out by a landscaped pool in sunny 80 weather. Sound rough, eh?

That was Larry's weekend ... he has a meeting in Palm Beach tomorrow, so he jumped a jet down to Lauderdale yesterday for a bit of R&R. We kinda hate him for that.

Well, what's good for the goose... . I took a mini-holiday myself today and booked a double session at the local spa. Larry got salt air, I got an exfoliating sea salt scrub. While he was letting the warm sea breeze soothe him, I let the warm hands of a masseur soothe me for 90 minutes. And, in a heaping helping of hedonism, I had a rub yesterday as well. Oink.

At Crash's suggestion, I met up with him and his rugger pals at the The Eagle yesterday afternoon. He is delightful, and I learned new drinking songs. My favorite being "Jesus can't play rugby because he wears illegal headgear."

I then headed over to Connie's bday bash at Elmo, which was a sublime drunk fest riot. His brother and sisters came in from Wisconsin, and they're all beautiful. I'd mosey west and eat cheese with each of them in a heartbeat. Of course, a night out with that crew just wouldn't be complete without a nightcap or two at Baraccuda. Who am I to buck tradition?

So now it looks like a cozy night at home, just me, the psycho cats, a book and my smooth, satiny skin.