According to the National Weather Service I spent most of my 45 minute morning commute sitting in 19° weather. 19° is the wind chill factor on a 37° day with a 70 mph average wind speed.
Deb thinks I’m crazy for riding my motorcycle to work this morning. In fact, as I was putting on my gloves to go out the door I barely breathed the words, “I must be nuts.” Deb was two rooms away and I heard her shout, “You are nuts.”
My hands hurt. My knees felt arthritic. I would have thought my scrotum was shielded from the wind but when I got off the bike my balls were noticeably chilled.
It was great.
By the time I left work the temperature had risen twenty degrees and I had a more enjoyable experience. It was cold, but my balls were in better shape when I got home.
Time to shift gears.
The spectre of hardcore addiction looms over our household. Not an evening goes by without everyone foraging through the girls’ Halloween candy looking for the best bits. Allie always asks, “Did I eat a good dinner?” Regardless of our answer she still asks, “Can I have a dessert?” For every piece of dessert Allie gets I have two or three. My rationalization is that I’m saving her from herself by removing the temptation that a fun size Snickers presents. The truth is I’m setting myself up for type II diabetes and hyperglycemic convulsions.
Give Daddy another Reese’s, Mommy. He shakes just like Tickle Me Elmo.
If you haven’t read Deb’s post about donating blood you should take a look at her blog. Deb’s so fanatical we’ve even taken the girls in to give blood. Who knew the requisite 475 ml is waaaaay too much to take out of a two year-old. Talk about a close call. She looked like an empty Capri Sun container. But it’s amazing what a few cookies and some O.J. can do.