Sunday, June 18, 2006

Risky business

When I created my new 'Things best not said to ones wife' category I fear I was exhibiting a lack of imagination. But I'll let the name stand for now.

As you know, we've got a family wedding coming up. Indeed, you're going to have to go without posts from me for at least two days as I head north to Flagstaff next Friday. I'm sure you'll bear up well under the strain :-)

My wife has been preparing for the great event; it's not every day (one hopes) that a daughter marries.

Preparation has included a fake tan. We live in Phoenix with 330 days per year, on average, of bright sunlight. I have 'farmers arms' without even trying! (How fascinating that a google search for a link defining what I mean by farmers arms returns as the first choice a pub in Daylesford, Victoria, Australia). Nope, what I mean is that my arms are tanned where exposed by the shirts I usually wear and extremely white where normally covered.

In the 1990's when I worked for Unisys Australia on the Australia Post project we had a weekly status meeting[^] with the customer. On one occasion they were complaining that we weren't solving a problem as fast as they'd have liked. Dave pontificated 'when we have an issue we expect you to roll up your sleeves and get down to work!'. So I stood up, took off my jacket and rolled up my sleeve. They fell about laughing with the observation that it was difficult to tell where the shirt stopped and the arm started. It wouldn't work that way today after 3 and a half years in Phoenix!

I'm assuming that my wife intends to show only those parts of her body that would normally assume a tan given legal dress in public so I'm at a loss to understand why she feels the need to improve on nature.

But where I almost fell foul of her today was when she came home with a new hairstyle. I'll give her her due and say right now that she took it very well indeed. It was quite difficult to keep a straight face when she appeared with a hairdo that would have put Carnaby Street to shame and I fear I failed. We have a tradition of me showing my tongue stuck between my teeth, indicating I'm biting my tongue. Damn near had to bite it through for real! :-)

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