I don’t feel pretty …
“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his points of view—until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” —Atticus Finch
I don’t care what anyone thinks. It doesn’t makes me any less of a man to wear my wife’s undergarments. I am confident in my manhood! And, dammit, her long johns keep my ass warm!
A Dirty Little Secret …
We have a special appliance in our house. A special appliance that really helps relieve stress. We use it in the mornings as well as the evenings. It really helps us relax. We’ve heard it refered to by a number of different sexy names, including Hotpoint, and Equator. We hear they even come in designer colours! But ours is a very simple model, and we refer to it simply as our “marital aid.”
Tip toe through …
I am staring at two vases filled with pink and yellow tulips because my boss wanted to do something nice in honour of my most recent office move. Personally, I think it is because last week she became a grandmother for the first time and she is all hopped up on grandmahood like it is a drug. Either way, they are pretty, and help offset the smell of corrugated cardboard that otherwise dominates this space.
A good snow job …
By nature snow is both beautiful and treacherous. It can cover the earth in a blanket of white, creating an unscheduled holiday for children, adults, and more importantly, an already edgy community. Plus, it makes sledding much easier. It can even make folks think they are better drivers than they really are. It forces us to stay put, then taunts us until we must get out!
This, to me, is when the beauty of a snowstorm occurs: as we dig out. As we collectively make our way out of our snowy cocoon, like baby turtles emerging from buried nests. When neighbors join together for a group archaeological dig, that feels like an old-fashioned block party, and in the process become both acquainted and reacquainted with one another.
Overall, it was a wonderful birthday blizzard.
Out of the Loop …
While driving to brunch this morning, Husband and I notice that we’ve forgotten to restock the music selection in the car. We’re sick of all the CDs we have with us, so I suggest that we try the radio.
Now, we don’t listen to commercial FM radio very much….hardly once a month. So I’m scrolling through the stations; past the easy listening, past the talk radio, past the annoying commercials, and I land on something that sounds like standard pop fare: a dance beat, a fake horn section, and a female vocalist with a bit of edge to her voice. The Husband and I start nodding our heads in time, momentarily distracted from the grinding traffic.
“Hey, this is kind of nice,” I say, surprised to find that I’m getting into a song that sounds like a cross between Brittney Spears and Shania Twain.
“Yeah, I like her voice,” says The Husband. “She reminds me of Shannon McNally.”
We continue to tap along with the beat, enjoying the simple yet catchy tune. Then I notice the lyrics.