LITTLE MORE THAN JIM REALLY

• The tree in the front yard at the rental house fell over during the new residents’ first week. It rotted. I’ve had that house for seven years, and it wasn’t until new people moved in that the tree decided to give up its ghost. Tacky timing, tree.

• When I see a “Galt/Rearden ’12” bumper sticker or something like it, I think, “Ah, there you are kindred soul, there you are.” But pretty much all other politically-minded car stickers, no matter their sway, make me think, “Go home, get a razor blade, use it scrape off that dreck, and if you slip up a couple times and slash your precious opinionated fingers, well, you deserved it.”

• We watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang on Sunday, a movie to which I know every word of every song and most of the dialogue in between. It was a 2:12 sing-a-long. For me. Later that night as I was rubbing Jim’s back while he fell asleep I said, “You know how I’ve commented that if I ever want anything from you I know that this time of day is always the right time to ask because you’re feeling so loved, and you’re so happy and basically desperate to make me feel equally loved?” He hummed a yes. “Well, sweetheart, I’d like Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. Please get me a flying car.”

• Today I saw a fellow who bore more than a passing resemblance to my husband, and I wanted to approach him and say, “Hey, so while the goatee thing is working for you, have you ever considered a closely-trimmed full beard? And maybe some black plastic-framed glasses? You could get younger chicks that way. You know, if that’s something that interests you.”

• Last week I round-brushed my hair for the first time in probably five years. When I had Kitty pixie-cut my hair so long ago I threw out the round brushes. I bought a new one a few days ago. I used it. Rather than messily blowing out my hair and then ironing it all back in place, I used the round brush and then just touched things up with my flat iron. Oh my the difference! So bouncy and manageable! Then I went to yoga, sweat my 'do flat, let it air dry, and looked like myself again. It’s okay though. Jim likes my hair “wild.”

• Put your toilet lids down. At least do it when you’re taking a photo of the bathroom. It turns my stomach when I see home improvement or real estate photos of a bathroom and the toilet lid is up. I’m a lid-shutter. It’s at least once a day that I walk past the half bath downstairs and have to detour to close the toilet lid before I can sally forth.

• Jim routinely asks me to marry him. I came out of yoga the other night and there on my car was one of his red business cards stuck in the driver-side window. On the blank side he wrote, “Will You Marry Me? Love, Jim.” He turns over in his sleep at night and mumbles at me, “I really want to marry you.” It’s like that all the time.

• It’s smart of Lululemon to include their signature reusable bags in every online order. They’re good bags. I can’t help but use them. Thus I do their advertising for them. Nice of them. Nice of me.

• Lightweight bikes are so yesterday. Evidently Jim’s 35-minute ride to work on his 30-pound commuter bike wasn’t hard enough. Last week he did is problem-solving thing and doubled its weight with a 30-pound barbel strapped to the back.

• I'm antsy to watch Sesame Street. I just finished listening to Street Gang: the Complete History of Sesame Street, a book that was 85% blisteringly tedious and 15% gripping. The gripping bits are compelling me to give my Netflix account a break from The West Wing and fire up some once cutting-edge preschool-age educational television.

• James took the kidlings to Great America (four hours from here), so I’m home alone-ish. They're amusement parking without me because of a piece of advice from a friend who is a step-kid: give the kids alone time with their dad so it won’t feel like they’ve lost him. Last week we all went to the ropes course at Squaw (where I lost my footing on some sky bridge thing and whacked my ankle all bruisey) but this week the children and their pa get to do their thing without me. Which means I have basically no distracting excuse not to file all the garbage lingering on my desk. Wait, I could write! Snort laugh. As if.

• Remember when this blog was, like, about more than just Jim? It's somehow become just a string of bragging anecdotes about how sensational my husband is. Today I'm that girl. His fault though. He's just too awesome.