Desk decor.

I believe since most people spend more time in the office than pratically anywhere else, the desk area is a personal sanctuary that should personalized as one sees fit....within reason.

For instance, amongst the rampant paper and sticky note clutter scattered about my desk, you'll also find a super cute lamp, 49,285,032,745 pictures of Alex/family/friends, a bedazzled coffee mug, my XM Radio, a poster that says "Who says you can't climb the corporate ladder in heels?" and a whimsical whiteboard that I use for random thoughts and doodles.

Other people have plants. Or those stupid stress relief sandboxes. Or noodle art from their kids. Or space heaters. One guy I know even has a water purifier.

But there is one desk accessory that I find to be superior to all others, and every time I see one I can't help but squeal with delight on the inside: The framed, professional glamour shot of the wife.

I know. You love them too.

Imagine, if you will, a 50-something overweight, poorly dressed engineer that clips his nails at his desk and eats canned soup every.single.day for lunch. In stark contrast, proudly displayed on his desk is an 8x10 framed photo of what, at first glance, looks like a Bratz doll. But in reality, it's his photoshopped-within-an-inch-of-her-life wife from a Glamour Shots session.

And the wife (or wives, as it were, since I've seen many examples of this in my days...) obviously had the following rational conversation with herself at some point in this process:

Self, you should make an appointment for a Glamour Shots session. Yes, that is a grand idea. You shall have perfect strangers coat your face with 12 lbs. of makeup and use at least 3 cans of hairspray to poof your hair circa 1984. Then, you shall get almost naked, delicately wrap a feather boa around yourself and smile for the camera wearing sexy fire engine red lipstick, too much blush and a very, very awkward head tilt. Maybe even lightly graze the side of your face with your pointer fingtertip for that "extra" touch. Then you will get large prints made up and framed and gift them to your loving husband for Christmas (because he will obviously love that more than an iPad or new golf clubs). At which point, hubby will proudly display it on his desk at work for GOD AND EVERYONE to see and compliment.

What part of this makes sense to anyone else? What's more, it's not like the wife will even actually know that you put it on your desk. Put it in a drawer, man, and pull it out the 2 times a year she comes to take you to lunch.

Am I The Only One?

It's no secret that JVW is a big sports fan. And it should be shouted from the rooftops that I am (usually) a very good wife and will watch said sporting events with him.

However, my eyes tend to see things a little differently. I don't catch all the big key plays; I can NEVER see the puck no matter how slow it's going; I don't know why some players get to shoot 2 free throws and some get 3; I rarely care if/why the yellow flag was thrown; I can never tell if the ump calls a ball or a strike. Instead, I notice people and details - i.e. crazy fans in the crowd, players with exceptional rear ends, etc.

But when watching the Detroit Tigers, I can't help but notice that the "D" on the jersey is totally different from the "D" on the hats. Does anyone else see this? Am I crazy? It drives me absolutely bonkers!

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

And for a side-by-side comparison (jersey on L, hat on R):

I have to believe the MLB authorities have a very good, sane reason for this. Anyone know what that reason might be?

First, The Ironing.

I don't iron. Never have. Actually, that's a lie. I do iron, and here's how:

Step 1: Grab offending clothing item(s).

Step 2: Get washcloth from linen closet.

Step 3: Dampen washcloth.

Step 4: Throw offending clothing item(s) and damp washcloth into dryer for 5-10 minutes.

Step 5: Viola! Get dressed and look like a million bucks. On a cold, wintery day this also provides the extra bonus of getting a warm tooshie for a few minutes.

My mom doesn't understand this. Neither does Joe. But what is awesome is that Joe irons his own clothes (perks of marrying a seasoned bachelor). I haven't touched an iron since...well, I can't remember.

As such, Joe wears the "iron free" Brooks Brothers shirts. I also have a small love affair with our dry cleaner. But as far as the shirts, he has one in nearly every color and pattern. Due to our, um, hectic schedule of late, the pile of "please iron me" shirts on the ironing board in the basement got to be a smidge out of control. As in, the man was rotating the same 3 shirts to work on a bi-weekly basis. So, as a somewhat delayed Father's Day nicety, I spent the better part of 4 hours on Monday ironing said pile.

That should just about do it for my wifely ironing requirement for about a year, no?