The editor's dad  usually sat at the blackjack table.

Mom and I usually sat at the slots.

The scenery was beautiful at The Orleans, the hotel where we stayed.

This is not the Sistine Chapel but the high painted ceiling in the entrance to The Venetian.

The sky in Market Square was as real as the city of Venice.  Hi, Mom and Dad.

Thank you, Allan, for holding my purse.

The canals in this Venetian fantasyland were filled with real water.

O Solo Mio ...

Check the trio on the bridge.

Check the trio not on the bridge.

The tiger had a destination.

He found the salty water, dripping under the stairs.  It was raining outdoors and seeping in.

Aunt Clarone and  her sister Betty Ann, my mom.

Aunt Clarone, Mom, Dad, Aunt Sharlene, Uncle Bill, and Allan during Happy Hour in Mom and Dad's hotel room at The Orleans. 

Sharlene is being funny.  Dad and Uncle Bill don't mind.

Is this the Eifel Tower?

No, we are not in Paris, but in the Conservatory at The Bellagio.

The flowers were so fragrant.  Hi, Sharlene, Mom, Clarone, and Me.

Hi, Bill and Sharlene, still at The Belagio, right next to the Conservatory.

The sisters perform with Debby Reynolds at Madam Tousand's Wax Museum.

Clarone bravely steps forward and kisses her idol, Tony Bennett.

Bob Hope and George Burns are still alive, aren't they?

Pastor Schuler should give more exciting homilies.

We toured the Venetian once again with the relatives.

The feet were sore at the end of the long afternoon.  But it was better than throwing quarters into slot machines.   Do you like my red purse?  I got it from Jenny and Nick for Christmas.