Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Diamonds from a girl's best friend

I love me some bling, no doubt about it.
But diamonds my best friend?
The human connection of a friend's love and encouragement trumps sparkle every dang time.
But what if I got both? At the same time?
And that, my darlings, is exactly what happened.
My girlfriend Cocotte nominated me for the brilliante blog award.
Thank you darlin'.

I pass it on to Howard at Rebel By Nature who always manages to leave me slackjawed in amazement at the deep, beautiful, yet earthy things he has to say. Love ya, Howard. You're a good man. A soulful writer. And a true artist with a camera. Blogdom is a better place with you in it.

Failure is Impossible

What would you have the courage to attempt if you knew failure was impossible?

Think about that for a minute.

Let that sink in.

Girls, I'll give you an easy start.
Dance for your husband.
And I'm not talkin' Tinkerbell dance recital dance either.


You may find this one of the most liberating and exhilerating experiences of your married life.

You can use your own creativity to come up with your own signature performance. Here's an idea for starters.

Take one of your older pair of jeans that you don't mind taking out of public circulation. If you think they are too tight, all the better. You want jeans that really hug your fanny but are not so tight as to be uncomfortable. You can even go to a resale shop and get the perfect pair for under ten bucks if the right pair of jeans is not currently in your closet.

Put them on.
In private. In front of a mirror.
You're going to cut them into shorts. Not shorts you can wear to your kids soccer game, either. Seriously short shorts. Obscenely short. Too short to wear in public.
Take a pen and mark where you want to cut them into shorts. Just a little mark. Take the jeans off. Go down about an inch or two from where you drew the cutting mark. This will allow room for fringe. Cut the jean legs off to make cutoff shorts. You're going for a look that's a little bit Daisy Duke a little bit Marianne and a little bit Ginger. You can use scissors to cut the jeans. You can use a knife if you're VERY careful and you want to make little ragged fringey I've been stuck on a desert island kind of edge to the denim.

Okay, you've got the shorts.

Next, the top.
There are several options.
But first, the most important bit of clothing.
Your bra. You need a good bra with lots of support and lift and cleavage. Doesn't matter if the bra itself is kind of plain without much lace and adornment. Just lift up the girls!

Okay, the top. This is where it gets fun. You could buy a camisole one size too small on purpose. You could buy a buttonup denim vest at the same resale shop you bought the old faded jeans you just cut up. You could wear that peasant blouse you wore 2 summers ago but haven't thrown out. Anything small and dainty that shows off your cleavage. And if you're concious of your tummy from baby stretch marks or something, don't crop the top. Whatever makes you feel comfortable.

If you feel like it, you can wear shoes or boots or whatever. Shoes are TOTALLY not necessary but can be a fun option.

Now. You're almost ready to dance.

Girls, here is the huge couragemaking confidenceboosting truth.
It is impossible for you to fail.
Success is guaranteed and failure is not a remote possibility.
You playfully own your sexuality and grow your comfort zone.
Your man gets the incredibly hot experience of having his wife tantalize him in a way that he has surely fantasized about. And the added bonus, is the whole damn thing is a guilt-free pleasure! For both of you!

Now, some of you may not really consider yourselves dancers.
That is SO okay.
I've got a workaround for that.

Jessica Simpson did a rendition of that old song These Boots are Made for Walkin' and believe me ladies, you leaving him will be the last thing on either of your minds. The beauty of this song for first time tantalizers is it has a nice slow easy beat and if you don't know many dance moves, all you have to do to "get it" is just listen to the music, feel the beat, look him in the eye and strut and saunter around the floor. You don't even need boots.

Now don't go all perfectionistic on yourself and practice it to death trying to make it perfect. This is not Star Search. This is Have Hot Fun At Home. But you may want to strut through the song once, by yourself, just to get into your groove. The first time I danced and strutted my stuff to this song felt effinfabulous!

Remember girls, failure is impossible.

How do I know?

I just know.


Please my darlings do not let your heart become distracted by thoughts of comparing your body to Jessica or anybody else. Own your own hotness. Share it with your husband. Go for it!

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Latin dance at lunchtime

I was knee-deep in documents and nearly bout asleep. After briefly considering skulking off to a vacant office, setting an alarm on my cell phone and crawling under the desk for a nap, I asked God to help me. I felt like I'd been dosed with cold medicine, just an overwhelming fatigue and I didn't think sleeping on the job would go over well. I prayed silently for a minute or two, asking for the Zoe energy of God to fill me. Two thoughts flashed on the screen in my mind. One a word and one an image. The phrase "put on the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness" and the image of the dance floor at the gym. I'd never danced on that dance floor, but I'd walked by it on the way to the circuit training room. There was a beautiful song playing on my mp3 player and I remembered my interpretive dance class and how much fun it would be to move to this song. Come. Dance. Now.

So I stood up from my desk, grabbed my purse and my water bottle and headed for the door.

As I walked to the gym, still listening to the mp3 player already strapped to my arm, I remembered that every time I had seen the dance floor it was empty. I visualized myself having the floor to myself, twirling and dancing.

At the gym, as I walked down the hall, I heard loud Latin funk music and when I reached the entrance of the dance floor, I saw that a Latin cardio funk dance class had just started. I hung back in the entrance for just a few seconds, then joined in at the back of the room. I had no trouble keeping up with the moves! The instructor was lithe and energetic, and she really felt the soul and groove of the music and so did I. The music was smokin' and eager to join in, I quickly dropped my purse and water bottle on the floor, took off my jacket and shook my booty along with everyone else in the room. The pants and cami I'd worn to work this morning were fine for dancing. Almost as though this had been planned. There was a woman instructor and a man instructor and they were both Latino and athletic without being perfect looking. Just two humans who love to dance and who love to make us love it too. This wasn't just an exercise class. They were sharing their culture and their joy. We had a blast. People of every race, age and fitness level in the class all movin' and groovin'. The joy was palpable. None of us were inhibited. We swayed our arms and swayed our hips and snapped our fingers. Y'all, we were smokin'! When each song ended, the class broke into cheers and spontaneous applause.

I. felt. marvelous. And Tom Allen—you knew there would be—there were mirrors in the room. And I enjoyed them. I was shy for about three and a half seconds ;) and then as my body responded to the music I lost myself in the joy of movement. The next time my eye caught my reflection, I thought, "who is that adorable earth mama movin' her hips like some native woman on Survivor?" It's me!
(laughing for joy)

There was about five minutes after class when the dance floor was empty, and I thought "ask forgiveness not permission" and I claimed that space and did some free dance to that lovely Pleasure of the King song I'd been lovin' on my mp3 player back at my desk. Dance can give wings to the feelings in your heart. It felt so good to let my body speak without words.

When it was over, I went to the edge of the floor for more stretching, then I put on my jacket, picked up my purse and water bottle and walked back to the office. My lungs were tingling and I felt pulsing with energy and life and joy.

There and back in thirty minutes.
You'd think somebody loves me or somethin'.
(grin) -SW

Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Three and a Half Seconds

God did it again. Made me feel gorgeous when I didn't expect it.

I was wearing an especially womanly woman dress at work yesterday. A fetching little number with cap sleeves, a sailor bow neckline with a tiny amount of peekabo cleavage and a twirly knee-length skirt. I always feel like I've stepped onto the set of a forties World War Two movie when I wear this dress. I even wore pearls and red lipstick. Makes me feel so good!

Delighted Husband had left for work before I did and since I often change into something more comfortable when I get home from work, I doubted he'd see me in this dress. So I wasn't really thinking about my lover seeing me all dolled up, I just did it for me.

So I was lost in thought around lunchtime while on my way to see one of my girlfriends for a drive by hugging. You know that thing where you don't have an entire lunch hour but you take the elevator to your friend's floor just to give her a hug and chat for 5 minutes? Well I love those drive by huggings. It's like the relational version of taking a hit at an oxygen bar. (deep breath happy sigh).

So I was scurrying along the shiny marble floors of Corporate America when I had to pause to wait for an elevator. As I was entering the elevator lobby, a tall stranger was leaving the elevator lobby. He was olive skinned and foreign, although I couldn't tell from where. For three and a half seconds, Olive Skinned Foreigner's eyes met mine for an instant, traveled down my body and up again to meet my eyes with a luminious look of assessment and delight. His friends continued to talk to him and he ignored them. For three and a half seconds, this man looked at me like I was a Ferrarri.

I couldn't tell where he was from by looking at him, could have been the Meditteranean, could have been somewhere in the East. Wherever Olive Skinned Foreigner was from, he was from one of those places in the world where it's not considered rude to stare at a woman for three and a half seconds with a look of frank assessment and obvious delight. Different cultures have very different ideas about feminine beauty. Many foreign cultures admire and embrace voluptuous women. Literally.

Well he admired me but he didn't embrace me.
Those three and a half seconds made me feel like my lungs were full of helium and my heels were an inch off the ground.

I told Delighted Husband all about it during our date that evening.
He laughed with his eyes sparkling and gave me a frank assessment of his own. Then he put his arm around my waist and let his hand accidentally stray to pat my butt before going back to my waist. He's allowed to.

God, I love being a woman!

Saturday, July 19, 2008

Possess your vessel with honor

From time to time, a reader will email me and share a bit of their story and ask me to share my perspective on something that's heavy on their heart. I'm honored by this and I offer what I can when I feel like I have something to offer. And I will wait until I feel I have something honorable and good and relevant to say that I feel ready to share. This is one of those times. And this sweet woman (I'll call her D) gave me permission to post my answer to her here. So D darlin', this is for you.

SW wrote~
Of course, the safe and legit way to meet this need is for you to start owning and possessing your body in an honorable way and feeling your beauty and directing it towards your husband.

D wrote~

And this is the issue. Since I've had no "model" I'm wondering where to go with all this. What is honorable in thoughts? Now I know we are to not lust after others which I feel I have a handle on, but how are we to handle male attention? I struggle with this and I've observed other women struggle (my sister) to the point of abusing their alluring power so to speak. I don't want to do this as I have in the past and this is my greatest fear. The "emotional" need that arises in me when I've felt a man's attention is scary to me. What is this and what causes it? I don't want to be afraid of myself, my body or my looks. I want to be proud of who I am and care about the beauty that HE created in me. As a Christian woman with principles I would never dream of betraying my husband, but the thought of being thin and beautiful (I'm not trying to brag here, but I'm large and still get alot of attention and when I was thinner I got more attention then I ever cared for.) has been too difficult for me to deal with~to the point my heart is saying just make it go away~self rejection. I know God is leading me to deal with this now and is renewing me. I thank HIM for women like you.

And yes, you have my permission to share whatever you think may be helpful.

Blessings to you,

I offer my reply~

What a courageous bighearted woman, Miss D!
So many things come to mind.
First of all, I understand the fearing male attention.
I used to feel like I had a target painted on my back and every predator and perpetrator would somehow know I was easy prey.
I also used to fear my own heart. Fear that when my heart responded to male attention that I was at risk for sinning. That's a valid fear. It's good to want to flee temptation. But it's also good to not jettison a blessing from God. Here's what works for me. I started to see God as the one romancing me and the people in my life as his vendors he sent to take care of me. Obviously my Delighted Husband is one of God's preferred vendors God most often uses in my life to bless me. (And I know this goes without saying, but just to be clear, Delighted Husband is the ONLY man that God uses to meet my sexual needs.)

But my husband is not the only channel God uses to bless me and encourage me. That's a whole nother article! Your spouse can't be the beall endall and only source of emotional support in your life. My point is, even when it comes to affirmation and complements from a good man I am not married to, I take them as a gift from God. Let me give an example.

About a year ago, I had just started an exercise routine. It was hard to take that first step and I had been working out just maybe a couple of months or so. I was still in the throes of emotional eating and trying to break free of that so life was a real struggle in that season. I had a week where my exercise was good but my eating was not good. I felt fat and depressed and just generally blah. I was on my way home from exercise class and I had to stop and get gas. I felt very uneasy and embarrassed about this because I was already feeling fat and here I was out in public in my sweaty running tights and tank top. But I had to get gas. Had to. My tank was on empty.

So I'm standing there at the gas pump feeling all mlehhh when the man at the pump facing me says something. I don't hear what he says cause I am so preoccupied with my negative self talk. I look up and say "excuse me?" and he repeats what he said earlier. This man (who did not look like the Unabomber) looks me straight in the face and in a calm low sincere voice says, "You're beautiful." Without conscious thought, I smiled and said "thank you!" and then felt shy and turned back to my gas pump. The man, a clean cut man wearing Dockers and a golf shirt, said "Are you married?" Again, without conscious thought I blurted out the first thing that came to my mind, "Very!" and I smiled as I always do when I talk about my husband. That word 'very' spoke volumes. The man's face fell and this reinforced in my mind that his complement and his interest was genuine. Then I felt quite shy and momentarily overwhelmed by this. I'm not used to having people's faces fall when they talk to me. It's pretty normal for me to enjoy bringing a smile to the people I meet. But I couldn't lie to the nice man and I was staggered by the weight of the compliment. I blushed and looked at the gas pump. When I looked up two seconds later to say thank you the man was gone. That's when I figured out this was a God thing.

I got in my car and drove away and the first thing I did was look up at the blue sky overhead and say to God "You are really going out of your way to affirm me, sending me a messenger to tell me I'm beautiful when I'm all sweaty in my gym clothes at the gas station!" and I just laughed at the generosity of God and received His affirmation.

I did not lay awake nights wondering who this man was and plotting to show up at the same time at the same gas station in hopes of running into him again. I just enjoyed what for me felt entirely like a sweet complement from God when I was all down and feeling crummy with my body image.

You see what I mean?

One more thing.
One of the meanest things the villain in the story does is try to make us feel guilty for having our God-given needs. Not even guilt about how we may or may not have those needs met but I'm talkin' about feeling guilty for having the need in the first place. I believe with all my heart that it is a normal God-given need for a woman to feel beautiful and to want someone to notice she is beautiful. Obviously, there are i
mportant boundaries that need to be in place, but receiving an admiring glance when you're walking to your table in a restaurant or hearing a sincere complement at church when someone notices your new dress or tells you with a wordless smile that you look fabulous, there is nothing wrong with that. Receive the affirmation as a gift from God. To me, the potential for sin or blessing is all in your mind. Do you immediately send out your gratitude to God thanking Him for affirming you? Or do you start imagining inappropriate behavior with the person who just gave you the complement?

Now, let's not be foolish here. Women have to be wise and develop a keen sense of the Holy Spirit warning them. We don't want to be seduced by some smooth talkin' player. But a random complement affirming you in the area of your life you've been praying about? Yes, I believe that can be God giving us a taste of The Sacred Romance.

That's how I take it anyway.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

The best cool-down song ever

This is the song that played while I was doing my cool-down stretches.

Monday, July 14, 2008

I am SO glad I went to the gym

I nearly bout fell asleep today around 3pm. Tahrd as we say in the South. I took off at 4 and drove straight home, with visions of high thread count sheets dancing in my head. Nice. soft. bed. sleep. short nap. before Delighted Husband gets home. Ahhhhh.....
But right as I turned into my subdivision, I thought, "Wait. How long has it been since I've been to the gym? Nearly a week. Eeek."
So I turned the car around and drove to the gym, promising my griping and complaining body that if I still wanted sleep when I got home after the gym, I could have sleep.

It was hard to get in the groove. I made my way around the circuit. Ho hum. Then this song

came up on the playlist rotation. God, yes. Thank you Sheryl! Followed immmediately by A Change Will Do You Good. Okay, yeah. I get it already. I started to feel my groove.

The rest of the workout was a sweaty happy mess. And of course I feel wonderful and have no desire to sleep now. Can you say 'give the girl some oxygen'? I knew you could! ;)

PS Tom, you will be pleased to hear I did not dodge the mirrors. And honestly, what I thought was "hey my arms are smaller" (yay) "hey my boobs are not" (YAY) and "holy cow, I'm jogging in place, not just stepping lively. and it feels good!" (big enormous YAY)
(laughing) -SW

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Y'all come on over and say hi!

Just imagine me out in front of the store giving away hot biscuits and cold sweet tea. Mkay?

Friday, July 11, 2008

The Joy of Naked Haircuts

One evening, Delighted Husband had an important meeting the next day and he hadn't had time to make it to the hair salon. He asked me if I could give him a haircut, and I said I'd give it a try. I'd seen my mom give my dad haircuts in the kitchen for years growing up. I snipped a little, and used the beard trimmer from his electric razor to trim up his neck. He loved the results, and I had fun doing it.

The next month, he didn't even bother trying for a hair appointment. He asked me to do it. I said sure, and went to the beauty supply store to buy him a cape and a good pair of haircutting shears. So he perched on a bar stool, put the cape on and I began to cut his hair. The problem was that all these little hairs got on my clothes because I didn't have a cape. Well, I fixed that problem! (wink)
I took my clothes off.
Not to be outdone, and perhaps hoping to be done, Delighted Husband took his clothes off too.
I did manage to finish his haircut.
That was 7 years ago.
I've been giving him naked haircuts ever since.
It's SO much FUN!
Sometimes, just flirting with eye contact, sometimes a little lap dance. Flirting, groping, fondling, and eventually... (blush) (grin)
I have gotten pretty good at haircutting too!
I only know how to do 1 style, though. He doesn't mind. -SW

Even in soulless Corporate America

Y'all, I have figured out I can do this job and still remain a soft, loving, reasonably sane woman. Well, not figured out. I experienced it. Oh goodness, lemme just tell you the story.

Ever since I started this corporate gig, I have been increasingly crabby and grouchy and dare I say bitchy. Yes, bitchy. I was running on empty and you know what that is right? A recipe for disaster. I felt under so much pressure, and my emotional bank account was so overdrawn.

In my old job which didn't pay much and was often frustrating as hell, I worked from home. So I was free to put things into my day that fed my soul. nourished my heart. Stuff like long walks out in nature powerwalking my way down a jogging path with nothing but green and the music in my ears. Stuff like having the house all to myself during the day and going into the gameroom and cranking up the stereo, pushing back the furniture, and dancing and singing my little heart out. And you know how you dance when nobody's lookin'? I danced like that. I would start out dancing like I danced in dance class and then passion would take over and I would just whirl all over that room! I'd feel breathless and alive and fabulous.

I had a lot of freedom in my schedule for quality time with my girlfriends, several of which I'd have lunch with on a regular basis. I had a nourishing encouraging support group that I was a part of. The group was led by a woman therapist and we slowly worked and grew our way through several books and workbooks like Boundaries and Healing for Damaged Emotions. And y'all know, I want to live right and be healthy and I need all the help I can get. And there was SO much love in that room as we all fought and grew together. Cause growing, real changes in the heart is a struggle, and you needs lots of people who love you who celebrate your little victories and hold you hand when you need to cry.
So, yeah, I didn't make much dough, but I had a really good world.

And then I got this corporate gig downtown.

And all the things in my life that nourished me went away.
And the pressure on me and the demands of me increased.
And the time! The sheer force of hours.
Cause I'm back in cubicle land. and for nine hours a day they want me to sit still and be quiet. And I'm me. Miss Dance-Joy-Vivaciousness. Trying to be quiet. And it's so hard for me to be still it nearly bout makes me ache. Oh, and did I mention, my dance class closed for the Summer? So really, all these lovely nourishing things in my life went away.

But the money is so good. I mean, I've made more, but I've certainly made less and this job allows me to pitch in on some financial goals that are really important to Delighted Husband and me. Paying off debt for one thing. And start up capital for my new venture for another. So I was in this gig for the duration.
And dying on the vine.

And ya'll know how unreligious I am. and while I enjoy the social, community aspect of church (and hey they also have a great band) my primary way to connect with my spirituality has been my singing, my dancing, my nature walks and bike rides.

So I was socially spiritually and emotionally overdrawn. I was a mess.

Okay I'm getting to the good part, I swear. I just wanted you to know how bad it was.

So this week, I remembered I had music on my pocket pc. It had been so long since I listened to music on my pocket pc, I mostly use my mp3 player, I had forgotten. But I'd heard everything on my mp3 player over and over, it was my workout list for the gym and I didn't think I'd find my get sweaty fired up music comforting.

So I did "play all" just to see what was there on my pocket pc.

And oh, you guys, it was Chris Rice. An instrumental from The Living Room Sessions. Savior Like a Shepherd Lead Us. Now as I told my girlfriend Pro Deo Sum on the phone today, as much as I complain about growing up in a Christian home, I am really glad I grew up hearing and singing the old hymns, because back in the day the people who wrote hymns were people who lived lives of struggle. We're talkin' big time suffering here, people and those lyricists knew what it was like to feel your soul had sprung a leak and the next gas station was 15 miles away. They knew. So these hymns speak comfort to me like nothing else. So I listen to dear Chris Rice play this hymn, and he has such a light touch. I mean, when Chris Rice does a hymn, if his music were cooking it would be a light garlic sauce that enhances the flavor of everything else and doesn't cover it up. Not your ponderous old Granny music. Light and airy and graceful. Are you followin' me here? I'm doing my best to describe the song because I don't think I can find it on you tube. Anyway, so there's the song. And the gyst of the lyric is "Jesus please be our good shepherd and take good care of us cause we're weak and we're hungry and we're sheep so we're limited in our ability to do anything about it."

When I heard this song, I heard all this comfort that I wasn't feeling. I remembered all the amazing spiritual moments I'd had on the jogging path. And I sat there in my cubicle. And it was like pressing your nose against the glass and seeing this happy dinner party going on inside without you. I heard love. I heard intimacy. I heard connection. I heard joy. I heard togetherness. and I wadn't gettin' any of it. And it just tore me up. So I closed my eyes, and I thought, "Jesus I miss you so much I can hardly stand it. In fact, I can't." And instantly, He was there. When I opened my eyes, I saw my computer screen and heard nice music in my earphones. When I closed my eyes, I saw this movie in my mind of Jesus standing before me, looking—as he always does in my mind's eye—like my brother Brian, with Celtic green eyes beaming with love and looking at me with such delight. I blinked back and forth a couple of times, stunned in a happy way. I opened my eyes, I'm smack dab in the middle of soulless Corporate America. I close my eyes, and Jesus is holding my hands and looking into my eyes with such love and we are dancing like children up and down the aisles of cubicle land. -SW

Oh and tomorrow morning, I'm loading up my bike in the shagmobile and I'm hitting the bike trails. Oh yeah!

Thursday, July 10, 2008


wells deep inside me
sweet salty lifegiving water
flowing flowing flowing
like Jacob's well a
neverending stream of more more more
more lifegiving words of humanness and pathos and pain and beauty and joy so big it
cannot be contained
in my skin
so it spills out
joy so big i cry it out come it out sing it out shout it out
tears and nectar and notes and words
joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy joy
big audacious joy that would be obnoxious
were she not so charming
in her childlike invitation
sit down play alongside her
a playground built for two to which the whole world is invited
come as you are come as you are come as you are
life and joy and healing beckon

Monday, July 7, 2008

Text Message Sex

One of my favorite things about our marriage is how we get the giggles over the everyday things in life. Delighted Husband and I were out and about running errands when I received a text message from one of my best girlfriends. I started to type out a reply and then decided what the heck I'd just call her. When I called her I got voicemail. I was so puzzled by this. I mentioned this to Delighted Husband and he wondered out loud, "I bet they're having sex and that's why she couldn't answer the phone when you called." I giggled and said something like "well good for her". Delighted Husband said "I wonder what the text message would sound like if she actually DID send you a text message while having sex with her husband?" By this point we were fullon laughing. We imagined the text message would look something like this: iiiiii ccant taaaaaalkkkkk nnnnowwww OMG OMG OMG

Saturday, July 5, 2008

Sometimes it helps if you grunt

I've been working out at a gym for a while and I recently took it to the next level by having a trainer set some goals for me. Today was the first day worked out on the new goal level. It was hard. It was harrrrrrd work! Without trying to, or conciously thinking about it, I groaned while I did the last 2 reps on the weight machine. It helped. It really helped. In the split second after making that sound of pure agonized effort, two thoughts immediately raced through my mind.
1) Good Lord! That's so unladylike.
2) That really helped. I think I'll try it again the next time I'm struggling on the last rep.

Something else that helps?
I mean really helps.
I turn away from the mirrors. I need to focus on what my mind and body is doing, not keeping up the running commentary on body image. I deliberately shifted my concentration
sight—(what do I look like? Does my whatever look fat?)
touch—(am I reaching equal range of motion? Do I feel out of breath? Do I need to slow down?)

It really helped.

Y'all know I like wearing a cleaveage-and-chiffon dress as much as the next girl, but sometimes I have to give myself permission to be unladylike to get the job done.

Please pray for me. I am really going for it and I need encouragement.

Tuesday, July 1, 2008

The Fuel-Efficient Shagmobile

I can die now. My life is complete. I have just used the word shagmobile in an article title. (cue Austin Powers) Oh beHAVE!!

After all the fun we had talking about the day Delighted Husband and I traded in our big comfy van, I thought I'd post an update or two about the new wheels.

First of all, some of you know how fond I am of long walks and bike rides out in God's Green Earth.
Now, I can transport my bike with ease. More than 1 bike if one of the kids or Delighted Husband wants to come biking with me. This is way cool.

Speaking of shagging. We weren't, but I never let that stop me before. (giggling)
As I said, field testing for the effability of the new SUV has not yet been completed.
Our accessories have just arrived.
Wooo hoo! Oh babysitter, where art thou?