What girls want:

A really big hammer.

I was stroking one lovingly last night at Home Depot, admiring its curve, its weight, its shiney head...I was standing in between these two Carharted Michiganders and murmuring to the display wall. Then I moved on to a a really big socket wrench, mmmmm. I'm such a tool slut.

We've been hammering T-nuts into Alexis' new climbing wall. I hammered so hard my right arm got red and itchy, and my muscles spasmed. It would have been better with a big hammer.


I think a new-year's resolution should be to not leave the house looking totally questionable. I mean, where I grew up, dressing to go out meant washing the manure off of at least one hand. But here in Ann Arbor, folks look askance when I go shopping in my purple flowered pajamas and cowboy kerchief (not cowboy style, you see, it has actual cowboys on it - lassoin', ridin' ponies and breakin' broncos).

Speaking of cowboys, we have been obsessing recently over the Outdoor Life Network's PBR rodeo coverage. Their tagline reads: "It's not *if* someone will get hurt, it's when and how bad." It's good to watch rodeos.