bowling tournament
for Dave’s company today
beer, balls, funky shoes

but I’m dieting
(and breastfeeding) so, no beer
although Dave had two

(Jules wants you to know
she got a strike, “WOO HOO HOO,”
and bowled a 60)

dinner out after
should have ordered the salmon
but gave in to steak

Poor Babies

by Leslie

I hurt all over
I can’t get warm. Sniffles. Cough.
I still have to work out.

Lucy is sick, too.
She has it worse than me, though.
She can’t blow her nose.

Imagine this: You’re in the supermarket selecting apples from the produce display and a woman sidles up to you. “Is that what you want?” she asks, picking up and inspecting apples.

“Uh, yeah?” you murmur softly.

“Oh! NO!”

You put your apple down and peek at her out of the corner of your eye. You grab for another one.

“Is that right?” she asks sharply.

You pull your hand away. Reluctantly, you inquire, “Is what right?”

The woman turns to you, smiles, shakes her head and points to the bluetooth headset hanging off her ear. You blush and slink away as she continues to chatter.

Now imagine that the bluetooth-wearing woman was me. Because it was.

I am officially a jerk with a bluetooth headset.

I didn’t buy it for myself. After my mom spent her recent day off work with me, she handed me hers and said something like, “For the sake of my grandchildren, and everyone else unfortunate enough to share the road with you, PLEASE use this.” She refuses to take it back. So, I have a bluetooth headset.

I have to confess, I love it. I use it ALL THE TIME. I’m wearing it right now! Because, oh my goodness, THE FREEDOM!

I can drive my car and talk on the phone.
I can do the dishes and talk on the phone.
I can do laundry and talk on the phone.
I can change diapers and talk on the phone.
I can pretty much do anything I normally would do, but WHILE ON THE PHONE.

I don’t even like to talk on the phone. But, talking on the phone while I’m doing something is infinitely better than talking on the phone exclusively. I don’t know why. It’s technology, so there are probably radio signals or wavelengths hypnotizing my brain to use it. I’m sure it’s complicated.

Dave hates my bluetooth headset.

He claims he can’t hear me very well on my bluetooth. I think he just doesn’t listen very well.

It probably has something to do with all the, “Hey! Guess what I’m doing?” calls. Or all those times I thought I was turning it off, but instead I called him back and he had to listen to the inside of the diaper bag and try to figure out if I’m in trouble or just really dumb.

He begins every phone conversation with, “You’re on your bluetooth, aren’t you?” followed by the world’s longest sigh.

In related news, my bluetooth headset charger is missing and Dave won’t be home for two days.

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