Monday Delights

America,

My husband has recently become a bit of a social butterfly. If you know him, you might be saying to yourself what-what!? and I would be saying it right along with you. Take for example this evening. We went out for a ride. Quite frankly, this weekend has been one heck of a crazy carbohydrate consumption event (ovulation nation sucks America... and my uterus--let's not get literal about things America, and roll with "uterus"--demands carbs!) so I needed to ride so that fluffaluffagus will not morph in to orcaluffugus (these are real terms here...).

On "our" ride, Chief stops and befriends some random fellow. "We" proceeded to ride for four miles all by "our"selves, while chatty mc-chatterson had a grand old time. And you know what, America? I loved it! Chief needs to be able to talk to dudes. There's a lot about his job, his leadership stuff, his experiences, that try-as-I-might I just don't fully understand. It's the exact same reasoning for why I need my ladies. As supportive as Chief is, he's not an XX and he just doesn't get some of the components that extra X lays down on my life (if you're behind, America, "XX" are the female chromosomes).

I don't mind riding by myself. The kids made friends, while Chief made friends, and I rode off carb-ville. It was a win-win-win!

In completely unrelated news: I am sick of ingrown hairs today. If you do not suffer from operation sasquatch nation, America, then I envy you. The lengths that I go through to tame the fur on these legs is outrageous! It urks me to NO END when I shave my legs and I look down to see fourteen thousand buried hairs! WUH! They always seem to become illuminated in my mind, as if my brain as labeled them with a hot pink highlighter, and now I'm certain they are all ANYONE can see when they look at my legs. I'm pretty sure the whole world is saying "Did you see her ingrown hairs? Has she heard of tweezers!?" (you have to read this is a stereotypical valley girl voice, or as one of the characters from "Clueless"). I will leave you, so that I may tame the wild beast. Sometimes I'm jealous of the XY... he doesn't have to shave his legs! HA! :)