Baby On Board.

So, admit it. Part of you was hoping this blog was an announcement.

Sorry to disappoint. It's not.

This morning on my way to work I got stuck in traffic behind a 1998 green Honda Accord with a small sign in the back window that read: "Baby On Board." You know what I'm talking about: those little diamond cardboard signs that look like school zone street signs- with the yellow background and black lettering. I couldn't help but laugh: do you really think that proclaiming to all the world that you have a miniature human in your backseat that I will try harder not to ram into your already-cracked green bumper? Do you really think that I'm actually trying to get into a wreck? And if I am some insane 7:52 am road-raging maniac, what makes you imagine that your little proclaimation of fertility will make me reconsider??

I would like a sign for my car that reads: "May all the world know that I, too, am fertile, though I have chosen to hold off on procreation for the time being. That said, there are between 1 and 5 people occupying this vehicle, ranging between the ages of 2 days and 103 years all of whom would prefer that you do not ram your car into this one. Your consideration and compliance are greatly appreciated."


Completely unrelated to this morning's ephiphany, I had another 'The Way I See It' moment.
I say this with all the respect in the world for the ladies who were injured and killed by the psycho who invaded the fitness club in Pennsylvania earlier this week:

Women who don't go to the gym, don't get shot while at the gym.

So I have informed my husband that it is for my own well being that I make the conscience decision to forego a gym membership.

And that's The Way I See It.