Spamalot

You may recall Mrs. T was, at best, a reluctant traveler to Spamalot, her mood not helped by having scratched her eye Saturday afternoon.

"Tell me again what this is about," she asked. Since I could see, and read in the dim light I read from the Playbill:



Followed by parts of the Who's Who, earning the evil eye.



Probably 40% of the audience hadn't a clue what they had walked into, most wondering what was with the hats.



Ten minutes in, the cast had them eating out of their hands. It was a marvelously enchanted evening. Mrs. T came around quickly, laughing at all the right parts, genuinely enjoying herself. Still she was hesitant when I suggested watching the last half of the movie when we got home. Many more thanks to daughter Katy and her hubby.



Black velvet works perfectly in drafty theaters.

Toad
Happy Birthday Mrs. Bagwell

I swear this is true

Pinky swear. Honest to god, swear. It's a girl thing.

Along with the gift of land my daughter and her husband gave Mrs. T and I tickets to Spamalot.

This morning my bride asked what Spamalot was about.

I told her it was a takeoff of Monty Python and the Holy Grail,

and was met with a vacant stare.

I began at first principles. What Monty Python was. The search. Why the coconuts...

I then set her down with the video, which she claims to have never seen.

I have no idea what planet she was raised on. A friend told me it's the same at his house.

Gents, this is what happens when you marry a child bride.

Toad