Ticking Tassels and Wrong Turns

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My mister bought me a bike for my birthday. Isn’t he darling?? It’s purple and white (the bike, not my husband), and I switched out the seat to one of those nice puffy ones that are typically purchased by people over the age of 85. It is so. much. better. In my opinion, exercise is much like birthing a baby. It’s a necessary ordeal to achieve the end goal, and one’s appearance is quite low on the list of concerns. The other morning, I went for a ride, a nice long ride.  Returning home, I felt quite the Olympian about my great foray into unknown regions.  I announced to my mister, rather smugly, that I had no idea where I had gone, but it had been a frightfully long way away. Somehow, he rather lacked the appropriate enthusiasm for my adventure that I had. Most likely, because he knew just how stellar my sense of … Continue reading