- The sexy purr of a Honda VTX 1800. The Husband and I took a ride around town on Saturday. I usually ride my bike, but it's nice to hop on, hold on, and go! I don't have to pay attention to anything. I don't have to focus on the road ahead of me. I can simply BE. It's wonderful! Having my own motorcycle is wonderful too. I love the freedom and the empowerment. But I really love conquering my fear and learning to ride....all by myself. Riding on the back is a choice. One that I'm more than happy to make...every now and then.
- Lots and lots of cussing (primarily on my part). The Husband is really only about ten years old. He's a BIG ten year old, but, still, that sums him up. One of his Christmas presents was a steering wheel and gas/brake pedals for his PS3. I'm pretty damn sure he would have jumped up and down, clapping, and squealing like a girl if I hadn't been there. The jumping and squealing still happened in his eyes when he started playing with his new toy. We've been racing this weekend (via the PS3) and I've had a tendency to spin out in certain French races. On Sunday evening, he tried to carry on a conversation while I was racing my Peugeot in Paris. It went something like this (N.B.: living room and kitchen are adjacent and within cussing distance):
Me: Hey, I'm going, like, 120 miles per hour and I've got some asshole on my tail.
The Husband: Canola oil, right?
Me (at the TV screen): Sonuvabitch! Uh, yeah (at The Husband, lest you think I call The Husband a sonuvabitch....well, not this time). He slammed me against the wall. Ooooooo, wait, I'm catching up. They can't keep me down!
The Husband: What temperature?
Me: 325. Shit! The motherfucker rammed me into the wall.
The Husband: Hysterical laughter. Hang in there, Hon.
- Whirring and bells of the carpet spot cleaner. We have two dogs: Lady, a Boxer, and Duchess, a pit bull/American bulldog mix. They are around two years old and have been housebroken (in theory). Lady lives up to her name. She detests cold, wet weather and will not, under any circumstances, pee or poop in the grass when the weather is bad. If we're lucky, she'll slip out the dog door, do her business as close to the house as possible (usually on the patio), and run back in. That's if we're lucky. Option two is to pee and/or poop in the game room. That's not so bad since it has a tile floor. Option three is a spot on the carpet in the doorway of the game room. She's peed, I've cleaned....over and over and over again. We invested in one of those plastic grass "depositories," complete with "perfume" to attract the dogs so they'll pee and/or poop there (again, in theory). And yet, I found PEE, ON THE CARPET (when my bare feet stumbled toward the kitchen for coffee....eeewwwwwwww) AGAIN! Fucking dog..... Oh yeah, and the sound of more cussing.
What sounds emanate from your house over the weekend? Lots of cussing or something a little more....sedate?
Have you been there?