What the Wildcat and I had going as, “Hey, come down for the weekend!” has turned into “Hey, come down for a week, and get the second weekend for free!”  Driving alone back to Knoxville is getting more and more difficult.

     I didn’t pull out the camera much this past week or so, although, we still did plenty. Friday before last, we hung out at Buffalo Wild Wings and had a blast, thanks in no small part to good company … and lots of beer.

     Eventually, Zacque showed up, although it was fifteen short minutes after Mushy left. We headed over to Baileys where we attempted to hook him up with several interested waitresses.
     “I have a date at 9PM, ya assholes!”
     “Go, Zacque! Have another beer…”
     No arm-twisting required. *snicker*

     Saturday, we took a trip through my favorite place in the world (I’m not telling where!  Nyah nyah nyah!) checking out the scenery and history.
     Since we’d both enjoyed travelling around where her family had grown up the week before, it was natural to return the favor.  We even walked through a few graveyards while trading crazy-family stories.
     Sometimes, even if you’re not close with your family, there are places you can go and still feel close to your roots.

     Later that night, we ended up hanging out with a friend listening to a musician, and had an amusing conversation.
     “How old is she?” she asked.
     “Ahhh, 28,” I replied.  “Why?”
     “She’s so sweet,” she smilled.  “I thought maybe I should introduce her to one of my sons.  She’s so sweet, so I thought she was younger.”
     “Yeah, she’s good like that,” I smiled back, thinking how great it was that she approved of my friends as much as they approved of her.
     “Hmm,” she mumbled.  “And how old is Zacque?”
     “Why, you want to introduce him to one of your sons?”
     Uproariously laughter ensued.

     So nice to be with someone who shares my sick, twisted sense of humor.

     The rest of the week was much the same.  Sunday we were out again.
     ”You know,” she says.  “You really do flirt a lot…”
     My head went, ‘Was I…? Did I…? Errr… Oh, shit, here it comes… ‘
     “…and it’s fine to window shop, as long as you don’t pull your credit card out,” she continued.  She smiled, and gave me a big hug and a kiss.
     That was one of the most incredible things I’ve ever heard. 

     She’s meeting the people I consider family and loving ‘em, customers, friends I’ve known for years, and proving to be every bit as adaptable as I am.
     She’s just as comfortable walking through ticks and briars to find someplace neither of us have ever been, sitting in a Five Star restaurant with wine and too much silverware, going for a swim in a secluded mountain stream, having a conversation with an important client, or knocking back beer and fried food at a football party.

     I was joking around with a friend last year, and said, “Ya know, the kind of woman I need is the one who’ll check me for ticks, and say, ‘Ooh, there’s one! Lemme get him!’ and will actually do it…”
     And hearing, “Die, you damn thing!” after that is just icing on the cake.

     But it’s definitely more fun to check each other for ticks when you don’t actually have any…