Friday, 11 April 2008

Dented kettle.

More surprises today.

The beard? Gone again, mostly. He's rocking a goatee of stubble today. He still looks like a serial killer. A hot one, but serial nonetheless. It's just too scary. Or maybe I'm too used to his clean-cut cuteness. Hotness. Whatever. I almost forgot my post.

Ben has quit smoking (again, shhhh.). His doctor has advised that he really really needs to stop this time. I'm so glad, I pointed out kissing the Marlboro man isn't nearly as nice as kissing a guy who doesn't smoke and he was vaguely offended. He points out it's the only thing that makes him look like a cool kid anymore, being thisclose to forty and all that. I pointed to the wall of guitars and asked him why he didn't get his cool from that.

Well...he thought that was pretty cool after all. For now.

Oh and the Fridays off thing? Still a feature of his life and part of his new contract with his old shop. When he worked every Friday night delivering pizza as a teenage boy he made himself a promise that when he grew up he would never work another Friday again as long as he lived. It took until he was almost thirty-nine to pull it off with any ceremony at all considering how little he actually works when he's home but it's certainly nice to see him home today.

This morning also saw a third (fourth?) surprise. Bikes. Not the motorcycle, but actual bicycles. The last time I was on a bicycle was when I was a preteen (or 'tween, as they seem to be called these days) and I went ass over teakettle over the bars and broke several teeth. I did the same thing on a skateboard a few years earlier. Me in control of things with wheels (or rudders!) are just not a great plan overall, okay? He thinks it would be a great idea for all of us to go on bike rides.

I'm trying to get into it. Slowly. I did survive the four-block ride this morning and pointed out I run faster than I bike. He was not impressed with me at all. He said we were riding slowly for me to get used to the gears. And I am not graceful. I kept trying to get on and off the bike by hurdling my leg over the front bar instead of swinging up from the back, like how I get on (I know, mount. Gah.) Nolan's horses.

Okay, the horse might have been less scary but at least when I got going on the bike I didn't have the high-pitched squeal that went on for a good ten minutes like I did with the horse.


I'll take the horse back, in any case. Horses don't need to be pedaled and don't have to contend with cars crowding us off the trail.

Ben asked me if I would do this for him, and he would quit smoking just for me. I told him in order to be a success he needed to do that for himself, not for me. He called me something awful and said I sounded like a therapist and how ironic of you, the formerly so fragile miss b.

He said he would quit for me anyway, that he'd do just about anything for me, he wants me that much. I told him he could make lunch for me then. I'm starving.