Gloves, Sweat: Tears

It was with a great deal of relief that I looked into the bathtub this morning and saw that my husband had washed his biking gloves and left them to air dry, thereby sparing mankind for a few more weeks. You see I am convinced that the destruction of life as we know it will come about not as a result of alien invasion from outer space or the accidental release of nanobots from the lab or even the unleashing of giant, mutant, killer bombadier beetles. No, life as we know it will end when my husband's bike gloves become imbued with the life force and begin roaming the earth slaying all in their path.

In a general way, I approve of mountain biking. It gets my husband out into the fresh air and gives him a good cardiovascular workout. Plus if you compare it to yachting, it isn't that expensive. The problem lies with the accessories. Better living through Chemistry has resulted in apparel that not only wicks the sweat away from the body it transforms this sweat into a crime against nature, an Unholy Alliance if you will, between perspiration and man-made fibers.

Normally, my husband's sweat is like all the perfumes of Arabia to me. One whiff and every cell of my being instantly decides that it is time to procreate, NOW. But that is in its natural state. What happens when it comes into contact with his biking gloves is something very unnatural.

Lest you think I am some shrinking violet, let me remind you that I live with Fanny whose back-end aromas are no joke. They are enough to make grown men cry "Uncle." But my olfactory organs have been toughened up by constant exposure, and I am proud to say I can survive in a closed room with Fanny for almost an hour without fainting. But the thought of spending more than 10 seconds in close proximity to Dave's biking gloves makes me reel in horror. Which gives me an idea.

I believe I know of a way to regain our national honor while at the same time punishing our enemies. As far as I know there is no Geneva Convention Rule concerning my husband's gloves as yet. So I suggest that the soldiers at Guantanamo Bay should leave off the use of conventional torture. They should put away the dog leashes and the electric cattle prods. They should stop flushing the Koran and stop forcing the prisoners to strip naked. Instead, I suggest that our enemies spend a little quality time with Dave's gloves. It would mean that he would have to ship the gloves off to the prison, but I, being the good citizen that I am, would be willing to make this sacrifice.

Official Title: Official Title

Apparently legislators in North Carolina have a lot of time on their hands because we have more state symbols than you can shake a stick at. Just like other states we have an Official State Tree (the Pine) and an Official State Wild Flower (the Carolina Lily) but we also have an Official State International Festival (Folkmoot USA). Sure, just like other states we have an Official Fruit (the Scuppernong grape) but we also have an Official Blue Berry (the Blueberry) as well as an Official Red Berry (the Strawberry). Imagine the chagrin of the raspberry growers.

Recently, efforts to name a state cat and a state carnivorous plant did not go well, but I have no doubt at all that soon we will have an Official State Poultry (the chicken), an Official State Gender (male), and an Official State Shoe (the left).

So since I have too much time on my hands today-- it is raining outside--I decided to run this idea into the ground. Here then is my Official List of Official Laura Jane Symbols:

Official Dog: Fanny

Official Cat: Mick

Official Husband: Dave

Official Daughter: Gwen

Official Pillow: "Lumpy"

Official Movie That Scared The Bejebus Out of Me as a Child: The Crawling Eye

Official Furniture Most in Need of Replacement: the couch inherited from my husband's grandparents and eaten by Fanny, the bulldog

Official Electronic I Recently Discovered and Now Cannot Live Without: TiVo

Official Best Reason For Having a TiVo: So I can rewind the almost indecipherable dialog in "Deadwood."

Official Activity Between 4pm and 5pm: the nap

Official Activity Most Looked Forward To By a Dog: Popcorn Night

Official Most Worthless Activity: Giving Fanny taste tests such as bacon vs. cheese or steak vs. baked potato

Official Pirate Beverage Most Likely to be Consumed Before Conducting Taste Tests: Rum

Official OTC Medicine Most Needed in This House: "Curtail" for doggie gas

Official Insect Most Likely to Disappear Once I am Named Queen of the Universe: the mosquito

Official Reason Why I Have Not Been Named Queen of the Universe Yet: Those bad marks on my permanent record from Elementary school, specifically that note from my kindergarten teacher about the playdough and a boy named Billy

Official Favorite Enigmatic Description From "The Contender": "He's no can of tomatoes."

Official Activity Least Likely to Occur in My Lifetime: Patching up the squirrel-catching holes in the laundry room ceiling.

Official Most Irritating Activity by an Animal Known to Me Personally: Mick's insane desire to rub his head on everything including the book I am trying to read and the cheese I am trying to eat

Official Favorite Gilligan's Island Episode: The one guest starring The Harlem Globetrotters

Official Favorite Shakespearean Play: The one guest starring The Harlem Globetrotters

Et Tu, Meadowlark?