still not in spain
the beaches of not-brooklyn
anyway, i love my in-laws. all of them. those mother-in-law jokes that miserable unsympathetic 40-year-olds tell each other? i don't get them. go tell 'em somewhere else, pal. my particular mother-in-law is, yes, insane, but deliciously insane. also, she keeps mr. nice guy well lubricated with the vino. she knows how to butter a man up. that said, mother-in-law did not win too many points when she called the nice-guy estates the other day FROM THE SUN-KISSED BEACHES OF SPAIN to tell us that she was so sorry we couldn't come because the weather is so gorgeous and her brother's beach house is so stunning. they were all just enjoying tapas and sangria and the company of none other than bacchus himself when they decided to give us, vomitus-interruptus, a ring to tell us how delightful a time they were having and how they do so wish we could have joined them. wasn't that toughtful?
mr. nice guy's fearsome List just grew longer by several names.