Half a Calf is Better Than None

Okay, I give up. Being idea-free for six weeks is not going to prevent me from posting. After all, a dearth of new ideas hasn't stopped me before. I have posted at least three versions of every thought that ever circled twice around my brain. Why quit now, when fourths and fifths are just a few synonyms away?

Perhaps a blogbot could be developed. Just enter a few key words and phrases, and posts will be generated that only a forensic blogologist could differentiate from actual human creativity. My key words would include: body hair, gams, missus, I, me, new heels, therapist, bleach, support group, amigas, and underdress. See? It practically tells a story in a list format. Imagine it with verbs!

The summer is plodding along. Not crisis free, mind you. I had a spat with my wife on the issue of working on a critical job deadline for my employer, instead of going on the half-baked trip she had planned. So half-baked, in fact, that when I begged off two days before, the destination changed from Mammoth Cave to St. Louis. Yes, truly a plan etched in pudding. She had hurt feelings, and a three day trip with the kids. I had hurt feelings, tempered by the fact that I did the right thing in protecting my family from the very real possibility of painting a target on my back in the event of layoffs. I chose to be magnanimous, and the water has now passed under the bridge.

The half-calf has been working pretty well for me. Having a quarter of my legs hair-free beats surrendering to nature and the adamant whims of my spouse. Gotta stick it to the man, or in this case, the wife. Just in the last couple days has the longing for complete removal really started to affect me. I am remembering the look, the sensation of bareness. I am ready to burn it all down tomorrow, but I will try to make it to October. Teeth clenched, I move forward.