Brad & Stefani & Pam & Steve

We got a late start, but Pam was lit. It had been years since she’d drank so much. Drank at all, really. We’re not big drinkers, she and I. We’re too old. It takes too long to recover and we have young kids, so…

But Pam was easily 3 or 4 sheets to the wind, her masthead the rudder.

“C’monnnnn,” she said. “Next one!”

By ‘next one’ she meant bar. We were on a pub crawl. We don’t do pub crawls. I’ve never pub crawled in my life. I’ve gone from one bar to another because the first one was too crowded or loud. I don’t know what Pam was like before she met me, but I can’t imagine pub crawls were a common activity.

“That one,” she screamed pointing and stumbling. “The one with the pig. I love pigs!”

Pam does NOT love pigs. I would say that a pig is absolutely antithetical to Pam’s being. Pam is neat and clean and orderly. The first thing she does at ANY meal is place a napkin on her lap. We do have a glass pig, though. It’s pink with green wings; about the size of a large grapefruit. I’m not sure if we received it as a gift or we bought it somewhere. It used to hang from the ceiling in our daughter’s bedroom, but when we moved it got misplaced or thrown out accidentally. It could be in a box in the storage area above the garage. We don’t know. Pam always threatens to look, but it’s either too hot or…