Shame & Regret

Really, minor shame and regret, but shame and regret none the less.

Little Arlo puts my dance moves to shame here.

Last night, while out on a fabulous date with Ms. H (happy hour and a play, y'all -- she knows how to treat a girl right). Anyway, while at happy hour, I heard a wonderfully cheesy love song that did not make it on to my mix -- Enrique Iglesias's "Hero" (I can be your hero baby/I can take away your pain/I can stand by you forever/You can take my breathe away). Now that is some fine, fine cheese.

Side note -- I had a chat with Ms. H yesterday regarding her pseudonym, since I had just arbitrarily assigned it to her, and it lacks imagination. I suggested other names, like Helicopter or Hippo (start with H, as her name does) or Feather (rhymes with) or the Latin term for the plant she was named after. Shockingly enough, she opted to remain Ms. H (what -- no Hippo?!?), saying she liked its mysteriousness. Ms. H in the drawing room with a hammer.