Drowning in Sexy

I just discovered something about Mr. Handsome that I did not know, which is huge (and possibly dangerous), because we've been together now 23 years, and I was pretty sure I knew everything about him, including the location of that strangely-shaped mole just under ... oh, never mind.

I found out that speaking a foreign language in his presence really turns him on. As does me wearing granny glasses. Can't imagine what would happen if I wore my granny reading glasses AND talked to him in Swahili while holding a whip and handcuffs. I will wait while you imagine this scenario.

Let me demonstrate:

And now, replete with granny glasses and Swahili speech:

Yeah. I know.

All this to say that we went to the local bookstore the other day to peruse the travel section, because it's been decided that Mr. Handsome is going to Switzerland this month to give a presentation at some United Nations blahblahblah, and I am apparently accompanying him so that he makes it there and back in one piece. And also, because I begged and pleaded and promised him loads of lewd and illegal activity on a daily basis for the next 20 godforsaken years. I can only hope his Alzheimer's kicks in quickly.

After a few days in Geneva, he and I are going to frolic off to Venice, Italy, where people fall into the canals at high tide.

You may not know this about me, but I am very afraid of water. So afraid, in fact, that if I go into the water at a beach, and the water happens to touch my neck, I freak out and scramble for the shore. I'm pretty sure this reaction is due to a very bad past life experience. I was most probably an Italian princess who went blind in a random cholera epidemic, and one day thought I was walking out the back door and into the gardens, when in fact I was walking out the front door and into the Venetian Grand Canal. Which would just be my luck, wouldn't it.

One of the books we looked at spoke of high tide in Venice, and how the water tends to rise a few inches now and then, and the Venetians put down old boards so that people can keep walking without getting their nice Italian leather shoes soaked with icky Venetian water, and apparently it's no big deal and no one even bats an eye, but then I read something about the dangers at times like this, because when the water rises, you cannot see where the edge of the walkway ends and the actual canal begins.

So...

I am pretty sure I will be wearing a lifejacket during our stay in Venice. But I am quite certain I can still pull off a sexy look. It can't be that difficult.

 The right attitude is half the battle.

Don't be jealous.