no night rider jokes, please

One unforeseen advantage of the Texas Rangers' participation in the World Series is that, during the game, the streets of Dallas are noticeably deserted. This means I can take my motorcycle out after dark without worrying about navigating through heavy traffic.

The reason for all this is that, historically, novice motorcyclists usually get into accidents during the first six months after they get their license, and usually these accidents happen at red lights. Therefore I prefer to practice navigating my first intersections with minimal competition.

So far, the closest I've come to an accident is in my own driveway. And this was because Jessie the porch cat wouldn't move out of my way.

Before I forget: if you're wondering if I'm one of those types that ride unprotected, see below. I have no idea why the laptop camera couldn't focus on the helmet.

What my cats are doing while I'm away

I was all the rage in the 70s

Reading Ian's comment about how my eyes change color during sex, I suddenly feel like a cross between a mistress and a mood ring.

Vow of celibacy? What vow of celibacy?

Recently I've become a fan of early morning sex. In the past, I never really liked it, mainly because I was so terribly self-conscious. I know it sounds neurotic, but I was convinced that men were only aroused by women with their hair and makeup done. (Like my first husband.)

Ian came by around 5:30 this morning, tasting delightfully of blueberries as he'd snagged a muffin on his way over. Early morning congress with a large, warm man who smells good and has rough hands was an extremely pleasant way to be awakened. My work colleagues even noticed how cheerful I was this morning.

Afterwards, I confessed to him that I had always been concerned about how I must look to him at 5:30 am. His answer surprised me: he told me that I was especially attractive to him in the early mornings, as my eyes became a darker shade of green when I became aroused.

"It's really erotic to watch," he said. "I've never seen it before."

The dog food hits the fan, or no good deed goes unpunished

OK, so I was naive. But I really didn't see a problem.

Last weekend, I spent a lot of time at Ian's house, as his wife was due home Monday. In addition to the obvious, we did a few errands. One of these included shopping.

Since he was out of dog food, I offered to nip down to the grand opening of a new pet supplies store and pick some up for him. I needed to load up on cat food and store had it on sale.

Before I left, we went over the entire house like a couple of CSI operatives, making sure that we hadn't left any evidence around. But we underestimated his wife's level of dedication when it came to busting him. She went through the trash and found the pet store receipt.

Not only did it have a bunch of cat food on it, I'd charged it on my credit card, so my name was on the receipt. Ian had been paying for everything else during the last week, and most of the haul was mine anyway.

He came by my house on the way to work this morning to warn me that his wife was Googling me. He had stuck to the Deny Deny Deny story, insisting that I'd only come by to help him with his dogs (one was having cluster seizures).  This may actually work since when I'm Googled, the most prevalent hits are animal-rescue related.

This may sound really stupid, but I can't figure out what she wants. If she wants him to leave, why doesn't she say so? Part of me is tempted to call her and ask. This could stop the whole fiasco in its tracks, especially if she's already connected me to animal rescue. I can lie convincingly to strangers. I'm only a washout as a liar when approached by friends, lovers and my mother.