The miracle of life

First of, I would like to apologize to my loyal readers (yes, all two of you) for what must feel like a century since my last post. I am very sorry.

I think I'll start by mentioning my recent unexplained domestic leanings. I think it is an important issue. It is very scary stuff. One may well have deduced this from the explosion episode mentioned in my previous post. I find myself wanting to spend increasingly more time in the kitchen. In fact, pre bike camp I had to talk myself out of a slow cooker extravaganza. Yes, I know, scary. If it gets out of hand, please, I beg of both you, organize an intervention.

Moving on. BIKE CAMP WAS AWESOME! And no, I did not find a cute boy with whom to mate. It was bike camp people, not procreation camp. They are two very different things. Breaking news: bike camp will in fact impede your ability to partake in the act(s) necessary to procreate. This news would break my mothers heart. As such, I will keep it from her. Upside: I think with much practice the ability to procreate will return. Remember, think big. I'm not sure what has spurred the recent fascination with my love life, but I find it amusing.

Crick and I held travelling rock concerts every evening in her truck. It was nice to be able to give back to the penticton community. I felt as though our vocal talents were really appreciated there. Theme song for the trip: Jesse's Girl. In close second: Like a Prayer. The acoustics in her truck aren't quite as good as those in my car, but I suppose every strugglling artist must endure hardships on the way to the top. Oh, almost forgot, in the spirit of mother's day here's something for my mom. I've never consumed food at a rate comparable to that seen in the okanagan. I also rode further than I've ever ridden. The exact numbers are not something for my mom.

Now, on to the salsa forefront. I've taken the plunge and purchased the dancing shoes. Owwwwww! Did you feel that? Now that's hot! Between the shoes and the salsa skirt, my life has been transformed. The last salsa class, like the others before it, was very exciting. I got to dance with the instructor a lot. He likes my body. I know because like any respectable salsa instructor, he told me. And followed it up with a purrrrr of some sort. I bet he likes cats. Note to self: the new cocoa body butter stick appears to attract boys, in particular those of latin descent. I'll finish it off by saying, I sure do smell nice, like chocolate and vanilla.