Sunday, August 12, 2012

Hair of the dog

Much to Jeff's chagrin, Alison's legs are now smooth as the day she came home with us. Except for a small patch of fur around her left knee. A scrape suffered in the Caribbean Cove lazy river made it unsafe for the razor to approach.

We did it in stages. Below the knee Saturday -- which thrilled and repelled her all at the same time. No slips of the Venus.

This morning, when I picked her up from her pool sleep-over, she pulled me aside and said, "Mom! The hair on my legs is already growing back!"

I gasped and clutched at my heart. "No!" She was not amused and went back to the razor as soon as we got home.

In other news, Jeff and I enjoyed a date night while she swam hairless, trying out a new Greek spot and settling in full of pita and olives for the duration of the new Batman movie. It's very long. I'm sure I pulled a butt muscle sometime between the third and fourth year of the film.

I'm not dissing the thing. But it did take a while to get to the credits. Thank God I'd gone to the ladies room before we went in. Between my disappearing bladder and the ol' butt injury, the batman and I didn't fully gel. It was light years better, however, than Un-Magical Mike.

The other day, the three of us were driving home from somewhere and Jeff told us the Subaru might need some mechanical attention. I said I thought we were done putting money into that vehicle. Jeff informed that I'd be tired of my Mustang and ready to give it to him before he would be ready to give up the Forester.

"Hey!" came the protest from the back seat. "I called the Mustang a long time ago."

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