A Gentleman's Quiz

Hey fellas, here's a little hypothetical quiz for you.

Suppose you and the woman you love are relaxing on the couch near dinner time and this woman (who you love) sighs and says that she doesn't feel like cooking. Now suppose, for the sake of argument, that you are in the mood for Mexican food and therefore suggest that the two of you go out to your favorite local Mexican hotspot. Now suppose that, in response, this woman (who you love) says to you:

"I look too terrible to go anywhere."

What should be your response to this?

A) "What are you talking about? You always look beautiful!"

B) "I think you look fine, but if you'd be more comfortable changing clothes, I'll wait." Or, 

C) "We could ask for a dark booth in the back of the restaurant."

I'll just leave everyone out there to ponder which answer MY fella gave. 

Dena

Thank You, Santa

Dear Santa,

You were here last night! I know, because the cookies I made for you are all gone, there are reindeer droppings in the hall (okay, that may have been the cats) and also because of all the presents you left behind! Thank you so much, Santa. I can't believe you gave me everything I asked for on my list! 

The number one thing I wanted, as you know, was a life filled with people I love and who care about me in return. You hit that one out of the park, Santa! I was hoping for even just the small version of this gift and you got me the monster size. WOW!!

Then there was the wish for warm furry creatures to share my home, preferably in the form of felines. I love the two you picked out for me, Santa. They're a purr-fect fit!

I also really, really wanted a healthy body so I could spend time running with friends. I don't even mind that the one you got me is an older model!

I also asked for a warm home, work that's meaningful and important to me, food on the table, laughter, joy, and a sense of humor to carry me through life. I don't know how you managed to fit all of those in my stocking this year but boy oh boy--was I excited when I opened everything! 

I almost didn't include that last item on my list, Santa, because it seems selfish to ask for it when I already have so much. But THANK YOU SO MUCH for the gift of Blair. It is absolutely the best gift I've ever received, and I will treasure it always. 

I don't know that I've been such a good girl this year to deserve all these gifts, Santa, but I want you to know I appreciate and love each and every one and will take very good care of them. I will try not to take them for granted. Also, I will share my gifts with people who maybe don't have as many gifts of their own. 

Thank you, Santa, for everything. And if you don't hear from me next year, it's not because I don't love you or I'm not appreiciative.

It just means I've already got everything I could ever want. 

Merry Christmas!! 

Stink Bug As Pet

I'm on the couch in the library with my laptop, checking e-mail, when I notice a beige something at the top of the fish tank. At first I think it is one of our two cory's, feeding. But no, the beige blob does not do the Cory trick of hitting the top of the tank then diving back down, then racing to the top then diving back down. 

The beige blob is stationary. 

Crap. I bet it's a Cory gone belly up. We just lost Big Blue to some sort of eye disease and it seems cruel to lose another fish so soon.

I go over to the tank and realize that not only is the beige blob not a Cory, it's also not stationary. It is a stink bug, legs paddling madly to keep its head above water.

Since a bug is involved, I call in the husband. (I'm more of a traditionalist than you think.) Blair pulls out the net but before he even scoops up the stink bug, the little guy climbs along the edge and, I think, collapses with relief. 

"Yea, you saved him," I cheer. 

"There you go, little fella," says Blair, turning the stink bug onto the floor. 

Uh, the floor?

And so I say, "Uh, the floor?" 

Blair looks at me. "The floor is bad?"

I hasten to assure him this is not so. "I mean, I was thinking more along the lines of releasing him outside but you know, whatever. We can keep him as a pet." 

Blair scoops the bug up but now I'm worried about his health. God knows how long he was treading water. "You don't have to take him out right this minute," I say, motherly concern kicking in. "He's all wet and I don't want him to freeze."

"Well, let's just see what we have," says Blair. He steps outside and finds a sunny spot in which to release Phil. (I named him as Blair carried him to the door.) "I think he'll be okay."

"Bye, Phil!" I call. "Good luck!"

And oddly enough, I mean it.