Around this time (1988 or so) I met Lurlene, the woman who was to become my wife. I say "was to have become" because someone tipped her off and she got away. Sadly, our romance was nipped in the bud by a tragic skiing accident that left her permanently married to a millionaire real-estate developer.
Lurlene's beauty was the natural kind. Unfortunately, she suffered from a rare, congenital blood disease that made her look like a rabbit.
But I didn't care. Her hair, or the way she wiggled her nose, or how she loved carrots, these were the little things about her that I loved. I could have done without the little balls of shit, though.