It was comfortable enough in the shade, but the shade was rapidly retreating. Fortunately, it’s a dry heat. Not unlike a blowtorch.
My happy over-achiever psyche is gnashing because I really do want to know where I finished. I’m used to 90s and above, so this makes me crazy. But don’t get me wrong…I passed! I’m happy!
You may be thinking, “Irene you nitwit! You live in Las Vegas! What’s the big deal?” The big deal is that just because I live here doesn’t mean that I actually *go* here. Like many locals, I have a certain snobbery when it comes to hanging at The Strip. So for two weeks, I went to Vegas! On The Strip, baby!
After talking with a few folks and greeting old friends, the moment had arrived to taste the vodka. I don’t know how the others felt, but I was very excited!
I was honest with Tarissa Tiberti, the Executive Director of the Gallery, when I told her that when I thought of Andy Warhol, I thought only of Campbell Soup, LSD, and really bad hair.