Back in my mid 30's I had one of many lighthearted conversations with my mother (God rest her soul). As a drummer I was on the road a lot but at this time I was in between gigs and temporarily crashing back at my folk's home. The set up was cool; I got to hang with my parents, do laundry and ate home cooked meals that were far better than what I found out on the road. It was a groovy set-up so long as I didn't stay too long—none of us wanted that. As my mother was crocheting and I was enjoying the sweet pleasure of a cold Canadian beer she said, "Son, over the years your father and I have met your brother's girlfriends prior to his getting married, same goes for your sister and her boyfriends prior to her wedding." "Uh-huh," I said knowing where this was headed and planning my sly response. "So, what gives? Why haven't you brought anyone for us to meet?" "Mom," I said forcing back a smile. "The kind of dames—"