Um, if I start this out "One time, in band camp..." am I likely to get clobbered with your flute? *G*

Well, there was the time we decided to run off with the circus, and I learned to ride an elephant while you serenaded the audience from the high wire.

Nothing new here:

I was the police officer on duty when a call came in from the Apex Dimple Import Warehouse on Ouillette Street in Windsor.

I had to book you for larceny from a building and mopery. But you looked nice in that black cat-burglar jump-suit. Drove the jail inmates nuts playing the blues on that flute of yours.

I think you got off on a technicality -- the stolen dimples offered in evidence turned out to be yours ... .

I remember how our whirlwind romance was all over the tabloids that summer we were doing the film version of "The Silmarillion". You were *so* peeved, especially when the paparizzi tried to follow us to the wrap party and we had to dress up Rand and Adam to look like us and send them off in a different direction to draw the stalkers away while we slipped down an alleyway on a motorcycle. (Still not sure why they fell for that...)

Anyway, it's a summer *I* will never forget, that's for sure!

:-D And neither will I!!

Ah. Remember the time I drove up to Algonquin Park to visit you and Jeff for a day, and the three of us paddled around Canoe Lake? Then when we got back, you made sushi and Jeff grilled some steak. Yummy! Then afterward, you pulled out your flute, I pulled out mine, and we jammed and played flute duets.

Of course we're going to reply! I mean, how could I forget the con where you started a flute and drum circle and I dissolved my shyness in a bit of Tully and danced to your piping till I fell happily exhausted in a corner?

Well, there was that time that you got a bit .... tipsy, let's say ... on plum wine and sang that ditty about Adam's previously-metaphorical-only habit of "channeling Rand", then spent the rest of the evening making up dirty limericks about the physiological possibilities presented on Star Trek. The one about Jean Luc and the horta was particularly fine.

*gulp* I nearly sprayed cereal on my keyboard at that last line. I'm going to have to stop reading LJ over breakfast....

French Vanilla & Almond granola.

Now I'll repeat to myself: I will not read Debbie's comments over breakfast. I will not read Debbie's comments over breakfast. I will not read Debbie's comments over breakfast...

Hah! I was done with my cereal by the time you posted this!

What concert are you guys going to tonight? (I'm seeing Tempest. I always come back from their concerts with fun stories.)

I remember that night when we had the special pannel for Folk and Filk Flautists at ConChord. I'm still not entirely sure how you and cflute managed to lead us into beating the Faerie queen when she showed up saying that the hotel was built on top of her hill and anyone who played music there without her permission had to spend the next seven years underhill. But I'm glad you did. Giving everyone we had gathered a season to improvise on seems to have worked and all in all, I'm happy we got away.

You can keep wondering.

cflute wanders off, smirking...

OVFF, 2001 maybe? I'm so bad with dates, they're all starting to run together these days, like those marbleized end papers you find in expensive books. Kinda pretty, actually... where was I?

Oh yeah, OVFF whenever. I was at the banquet, talking with my tablemates when the room suddenly fell quiet. And there you were, framed in the doorway: all ivory skin and bias-cut black silk satin, your demurely lowered, sooty lashes completely at odds with the knowing smile that tugged at the corners of your carmined mouth. You waited, still, silent, infinitely patient, until every eye in the room was on you. Then, and only then, you daintily lifted the fishtail hem pooled about your feet, so that all could see your exquisitely detailed Ookla The Mok fuzzy slippers, Rand on your right foot, Adam on your left.

I guess my favorite was in Denver on our transcontinental train trip, when we set up as competing buskers in the railroad station. I collected more money to shut up than you did to play!

It was so nice to see you and meet Jeff that February a few years ago when you were so frustrated and just had to get out of Philadelphia. I'm glad you got away, and it's okay that we only saw you for a few hours. I know the hotel you stayed at in Sand Key, and I know the beaches you were on. We've stayed there, too, and the look on both of your faces when you were on your way back to the airport said it all.

And you know, of course, that you can return any winter you need to.

Let's see . . .How about that time you threatened to clobber me for selling "Uber Debbie" T-shirts to Jean Luc Picard and Viggo Mortensen?

I have this hazy memory of you chasing me around, welding a hatchet while sputtering various words (and spit) including "those @$#@$ Dill Brussel Sprouts!!"

Okay I'm late but here's mine:

Debbie and I were working at the now-closed Chicken Ranch in Nevada. (She was calling herself Lotus then.)

Debbie specialized in that whole asian woman fantasy thing. You know, the kimono, she'd talk in broken english and do the subservient woman act. Give them baths and act like it was the greatest thing that ever happened to her. Never mind that she'd never been with a man without being paid in her entire life. She would've done women for free but she was working to pay off her rehab bill and couldn't afford the distraction.

Debbie had gotten hooked on painkillers after that skydiving accident. It wasn't really her fault, just bad luck combined with a bad doctor and a bad breakup with a bad girlfriend.

Anyway, this guy came in and wanted me to pretend to be his wife who caught them together and then beat Debbie up. Well, this didn't go over well and we pretended that we'd gotten mixed up and ended up kicking the shit out of him. We said that we thought we told him the safe word was "Marinara" and since he never said it we just kept hitting him.

We got fired and Debbie said she was going to leave the country and start fresh. She had some talent with drawing and writing. She shaved 8 years off her age and enrolled in a university up in Canada.

Last I heard she was playing music and had invented a whole past for herself. She'd gotten back in touch with a girl she'd worked with at an asain massage parlor and they were covering for each other as sisters. Apparently they'd gone out to flea markets and bought old photos of kids that they've been passing off as themselves.

They've also adopted an old Japanese mobster and they call him their father. He gives them money and they keep him happy, finding him women and opium.

She had a whole business that she'd sold to a bigger company. But, one of the execs in the big company used to be one of Debbie's regulars and got kinda freaked out when he saw her. He ended up closing down the deal rathar than deal with her on a regular basis. I swear some people can't understand that it was just business!

I gotta hand it to her. I know I couldn't keep it up.

I adore you, too, Debbie.

:)