This past weekend as Blair and I were driving up to Wintergreen, VA, I noticed the personalized license plate on the car in front of us. 

"BE CALM," I read aloud.

"Advised the people driving the Lexus LX Suv," added Blair, eyeing the upscale black vehicle the plate hung on. 

We had a chuckle over it, passed them (that's what you get for being calm) and continued on our way. 

Flash forward to our drive home from Wintergreen.

"Look over there," said Blair, motioning to the lane next to us. 

Guess who? That's right, BE CALM was back beside us, returning from wherever they'd been at the exact same hour that we were. 

"No way," I said. "What are the odds? Obviously the Universe wants us to BE CALM." 

"I'm calm," said Blair. "Are you calm?"

"I was calm until I saw the BE CALM plate," 'I said. "Now, honestly, I'm a little freaked out." 

Nothing else to add. Just one of those asides that makes you think a bit and wonder if life is random or are things planned. What's your take on it?



I Love Skiing

Three words I never expected to write in sequence: I. Love. Skiing. 

As you may recall, Blair decided--on a whim--to take us skiing. Our private ski lesson was this morning at 8 am. "Ralph" was replaced with "Jim," an infinitely patient and capable instructor. The lift didn't open until 9 so our timing was perfect--we got in and got our equipment and had our practice session before any real crowds showed up. 

This was a good thing as "I love skiing" does not necessarily equate to "I am good at skiing."

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"Men Don't Share Clothes"

As we saw in yesterday's post, Facebook friends have been generous with hooking me up with attire for the rapidly approaching Smug Married Ski-athon. Yesterday, my friend Christie's husband asked her, "What about Blair?"

"What about him?" she said. 

"Dena's got ski clothes now. What's Blair going to wear?"

"I have no idea," said Christie. "All I'm concerned with is that my girl is going to look hot enough to melt snow." (Perhaps you can see why we're friends.) 

"We men have to stick together," said Mike. "Blair can borrow my ski jacket." 

How nice is that? I made arrangements to pick the jacket up this weekend. However, when I mentioned the jacket to Blair last night, he shook his head. 

"Men don't share clothes."

"You're kidding me, right?" I asked. "This isn't sharing clothes. It's a jacket. You wear your own clothes underneath it."

"Men don't share clothes." 

"Are you telling me you'd rather spend a bunch of money on a new ski jacket that's probably only going to be worn this one time? That makes no sense."

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," said Blair. "And you know why?"

"Don't even," I warned. 

"Because. Men. Don't. Share. Clothes." 

I'm going with Blair tomorrow to look at--and most likely purchase--ski attire from Sports Authority. However, I'm also bringing home Mike's jacket on Sunday for Blair to try on. That's when the real battle of wits will begin. 

If we don't settle it here, we'll battle it out on the slopes.