Nepotism

I got an email from my nephew a few weeks ago. His longtime girlfriend dumped him at the beginning of summer. Poor kid. He was moping around the house in Houston and feeling like crap. Oh the tragedy to be twenty and have a broken heart! I called him and he choked up on the phone talking about their breakup (the bitch). I decided then and there to get him out of that environment and give him some breathing space so I offered him a job in London at my company for the summer.

He's been here two weeks now and I can't tell you how impressed I am with this kid. He knows nothing about the oil business but he catches on fast and is thriving on the pace. Scott and I were talking last night about what a natural he is. That's something he didn't get from either parent. He has me thinking about dynasty and maybe letting him take over someday. I won't let him know. I want him to want it badly. Time will tell.

He finally went out Saturday night and didn't get home until Sunday mid morning. ... I think his broken heart is mending.

and how was your weekend?

I trust you all had a better weekend than me. It was London Gay Pride weekend and the weather was crap. I couldn't get enthused enough to leave the house. Gay Scott and his ex went to Paris for for Paris Pride and asked me to go but I decided to stay home and keep an eye on the pool preparations and be there for the party deliveries. People better be hungry for ribs on this 4th because I have them running out my ears.

I grabbed a box cutter to cut the twine on the butchers package and promptly sliced the base of my thumb. (no alcohol was involved - just my carelessness) Blood went everywhere. I tried direct pressure with little success. In a few minutes it was apparent I was going to need stitches. Jane was out so I had to wrap my hand in a towel then grab an umbrella and head to Chelsea and Westminster Hospital by myself. The hospital is a comfortable walk away but trying to hold an umbrella and also hold my other had up and keep the towel wrapped proved too hard. By the second block I had thrown away the umbrella. The towel was now soaked and blood was running down my arm. I picked up the pace and began to trot while getting soaked by the rain. By the time I reached the hospital A and E I looked like I had survived a stabbing and a drowning. While waiting for the stitches I called the bf. So what if there was an 8 hour time difference? I needed sympathy but got little.

Me: Hi babe. I'm at the hospital getting stitches.
Bf: Mwhuh? What time is it?
Me: Oh shit, must be 3 am there.
Bf: Gimme a sec. What did you say about a hospital?
Me: I tried to cut my hand off and now I'm getting stitches.
Bf: Told you I would be home in 3 weeks. There was no need to cut your wrists.
Me: Ha. I look like a Texas Chainsaw Massacre survivor.
Bf: That's hot. Take pics for me.
Me: You are too sick for words.
Bf: Uh huh, that's why you love me.
Me: I better let you go back to sleep. The doctor just walked in to stitch me up.
Bf: I guess this means your career as a hand model is over. Be more careful, idiot, and call me if he tries to amputate anything below the waist.

Eleven stitches and 2 1/2 hours later I came home to a frantic Jane. She arrived home to find a bloody kitchen and no Ray in sight. We spent the next hour cleaning up the mess.

Sunday was uneventful. I had to cancel plans to go to the Diana Memorial Concert with friends. Clapping would have been out of the question.

One bit of good news though - I'm ambidextrous so I can still spank the monkey.