It’s been strangely quiet the last few days.
Nostalgia’s been pouting, again. She has been unable to recruit anyone to accompany her to the FGS Conference in San Antonio.
“A true lady has an escort,” she growled, before spying me in the kitchen making some tea.
“Rabbit,” she then said sweetly, “why don’t YOU come with me to Texas?”
Oh, no,” I replied. “I’m not joining your entourage. I could not handle the embarrassment.”
“It will be fun. I could introduce you to everyone,” she teased, clinging to my arm. “I know almost all of genealogy’s rock stars and royalty, you know!”
I chuckled quietly as I recalled details of Nostalgia’s cameo appearance in Utah, last February.
“Yes, you do, Gia. Yes, you do.”
“What’s so funny?” she asked, releasing me from her talons and taking a defensive step back.
“Oh, just remembering the Pirate Queen’s story of the Powder Mountain Flamingo!”
Nostalgia groaned and covered her face. “She promised that she wouldn’t tell you!”
“She didn’t,” I quipped, my smile growing devilishly wider. “She told her consort, and he told me.”
“Oh, do I want to know?” she quietly asked.
“Ahem!” I cleared my throat and began:
“On the glistening slopes of Powder Mountain, dressed in hot, neon pink, you were graceful like a flamingo …”
Gia’s eyes widened, a small look of surprise overtook her frightened face.
“Taking a run down the course, you swayed left and right — as if to music, although nothing played …”
The Old Banshee sat up, now beaming at the royal account of her snowboarding prowess.
“In and out, you carefully weaved past others that appeared to be still, until …”
She winced.
“A little guy wiped out a few feet from you, sliding into your flight path …”
“I remember him, the poor Dear,” Nostalgia cried.
“You somersaulted to avoid him,” I continued, “to the cheers of everyone near …”
She beamed proudly. “Yes! Yes, I did!”
“… but in doing so, you lost your balance upon landing …”
“Oh, that,” she sadly admitted, “that was very embarassing.”
“… and careened down the remainder of the course …”
“Thank you, Dearie,” she added, “that’s quite enough.”
“… like a deadly avalanche …” I continued obliviously.
“That’s enough, Rabbit,” she glared.
“… screaming ALL the way!”
“RABBIT!”
[Chuckling, I quickly took my cue and fled.].