Let's Give Them Something To Talk About

My darling Boo and I haven't had the easiest month this year. We've battled bronchial pneumonia, a severely infected throat abscess and our grief for our son. We've had to struggle through watching my dad fight for life and be reminded of Boo's father losing his battle years ago.

On top of all that, we've been separated while he chases his almighty dollar. And his big surprise for me on my birthday, oh yeah. It was a big surprise. A wireless computer mouse. So he could play his computer games better. Don't worry, dear internet. He did almost die for that one. He apologized and got a re-do. After I beat him with his wireless mouse he went and bought me a very pretty 30GB iPod.

He still lives. But just barely.

But because of the illnesses, the grief, the work absence, the stress, and of course, the bad birthday gift, it hasn't been a month filled with cuddles and kisses, and other assorted marital intimacies.

No, the only loving I'm getting is from my boob-destroying puppy, also known as Nixon, the World's Greatest Dog. Ever.

And Nixon's loving tends to be of the slobbery, dog-breath smelling variety. Hmm, wait a second. So does my hubby's...

I digress. What I'm trying to allude to is to the fact the hubs and I have spent less time hand holding than my daughter and her grade five beau. Sad, really, when your ten year old gets more action than you.

So to make things right, put the intimacy back into this marriage, we are going away together for the weekend. Without the kiddies.

To make romance happen dear internet, or die trying.

The weekend won't just consist of reconnecting. It also includes my beautiful Boo standing up for his buddy during his wedding ceremony. But it's not going to help the romance develop when the groom wants to crash with us the night before the nuptials so he doesn't see his beautiful bride. And it certainly won't help the lovin' department when all the men who attended the stag party stop to stare at my chest, at the reception and dance.

Since the intoxicated bride-groom and his stupid buddy (that would be my husband) announced to the twenty or so guys there that I have made some body modifications.

I'm feeling the romance already.

Facing all of this, and the stress of the past few weeks, I did what any healthy normal woman would do.

I got my hair done.

Cut, colored and styled. My long tresses are, well, I'm not gonna say. My darling hubs will read this tonight and then the surprise will be gone.

Let's just say that I've given all those boys something to wonder about other than what my boobs look like.

And if you don't like it Boo, you should have muzzled your buddy a few weeks ago when he decided to spread the word about my love of all things sharp and pointy...