January 13, 2014
I have an underpants radius of the front stoop, at least that is how
far it was back when Taelor and I lived in Brasil.
As I was sweeping the front porch in my black panties and sports bra,
my daughter was dropped-off by her friend and his parents. They opened the big
wooden gate, to find me, stunned to submission, frozen like a raccoon with a
chicken in its grip, broom in hand, and gaping hole for a mouth. Despite the
fact that Taelor was six, she remembers it like it was the end of the quarter
test last week. The kid could not have cared less, mother was shocked and dad,
well, he had a Jack-O-Lantern grin on his face, nearly ramming into the
verandah with the Mercedes. Great.
How far is your underpants radius?
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