Physical Pain Can Be Fixed

My husband is down in the dumps. Without taking 100289 words to explain the situation, he is 35 and unemployed and all his career attempts lately have failed. The latest endeavor was the biggest disappointment of all, and while it's not in the trash can YET. . . all that is left is for him to heave it over the rim.

I just asked him if I could pluck out the hairs under his arms or on his chest (because he has a lot of them) as a way to channel his negative energy into something useful. After all, physical pain can always be fixed. I have tried all evening to cheer him up to no avail, so I figure this tactic is next-best.

After the crappiness of this day (sorry for that classless word) my daughter and I set out on a bike ride. Her legs are short. We made it about 2 miles, and she was huffing and puffing ready to turn back. It was funny, though, she is so much like me. She put her head down, bit down on her lip and pedaled like crazy the whole time.

When we got back, my son who is the bike-riding champion of the world asked me to take him for a ride. I was feeling good, so off we went. He is more like his dad - riding slower, looking at everything around him, reading street signs, stopping to itch his leg. Since I was relying on momentum for some of the bigger hills, I had to push that boy to speed up. After all, nothing worse than realizing your legs are no longer rotating and then. . . ugh, gotta get this thing started again!

All in all, I rode 16 miles, burned 1000 calories and enjoyed a cup of ice cream when I got home. That, my friends, is 2 hours of awesome stress relief. Now to figure out how to cheer up and encourage the hubby. Going to get the tweezers. . .