My Hot German Hard-Body (aka VW Passat)

Dear Patty,

Back in 1998, a mere six months after I was married, a foreign hard body caught my husband's eye.

Oh, she was black and sleek and fast - surely she was a fast one - and I knew right away my husband wouldn't be able to resist her.

That very first day he brought her home, and I stood idly by as she settled in, boldly claiming her spot on my territory. I resented this, of course, but I also couldn't help admiring her. She was a vision of loveliness. A real beaut. In her midst it was hard for anyone - including me - to see much of anything else.

My husband was powerless under her spell. He bought her gifts galore, including spa treatments and the finest products money could buy. Much to my dismay, he couldn't keep his hands off her, always taking great pains to wash her himself, caressing every inch of her body with his soft, gentle hands.

My hands.

It's been nearly ten years, Patty, and frankly, I've had enough. Please help me figure out how I can sever the ties between my husband and this temptress!

Time has painted me with tiny wrinkles and matte finish, but not her. Thanks to my husband's love and affection, she stands as radiant as ever, a gleaming vision of - dare I say it - timeless beauty.

Maybe it's time for me to bring home a hard body of my own, eh Patty? How 'bout I find myself a Latin lover? A fast Italian who reeks of leather and smoke? Or maybe I should surprise him with an eco-conscious green hottie who saves the world while purring like a kitten?

Meow.

Actually, Patty, I think I'm onto something here. That is, unless you have any other advice.

Sincerely,

Ruth Dynamite

The preceding post is part of the CarBlabber Blog Blast sponsored by the Parent Blogger Network.

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Sincere Thanks to the kind and lovely Julie for bestowing me with the brilliant pink button on my sidebar. You, Julie, are an inspiration in many ways, and I thank you most sincerely. (Now go drink some milk and put your feet up, OK?)

Housekeeping: Yes. Your eyes have not deceived you. There are now ads on my sidebar. I made the decision to permit ONLY THE FINEST advertisements on this site - and that would be BlogHer ads. If I haul in $5 per month from this venture, I promise to keep my head and remember all the little people (and that would be my children - the ones nagging me for food and clothes and pencils that smell like fruit). **NOTE: If you are still using Internet Explorer as your browser, I highly recommend switching to Firefox (the download is free). I recently did just that and I no longer have to wait in frustration for internet pages to open. It's like a dream, I tell ya. A dream. (And I have the wondrous Izzy to thank for that.)

And Lastly: I regret to inform you that I was wrong about something. I know, I know. You're shocked. I was too! I mean, the last time I was wrong was this time I thought I was wrong, but as it turned out I was really right after all.

Anyhow, my sneaking suspicions about having Lyme disease were just that: suspicions. My blood test was negative. (Oh, and my rash is totally gone.) Truthfully, had my health care giver (I won't call her a doctor) earned my respect earlier I probably wouldn't have insisted on the test. But she stood her ground and I stood my ground and, well, we all know how I love a good brouhaha.

And so, I am most humbly and not regrettably (except for the being wrong part)...healthy and tick-bite free.

Carry on.