I Can't Compete With That

Among our group of friends, I am lovingly referred to as a "one-upper". Someone tells a story, and I come back with something to top it.

If you reflect on the time you were driving in a snowstorm, I will tell you a story about walking through a blizzard and not being able to see two feet in front of me. If you were rear-ended by a car, I'll tell you about the time I was hit by a semi.

My two favorite words in conversation are, "That's nothing." But really, a girl can't help it if she's that irritating interesting.

But, my husband is the master competitor. It doesn't take much to get him defensive either. If you could declare a winner in conversation, he'd be sure to snag the gold medal. Though that medal would come at the expense of the other person. A person who ends up an exhausted heap on the floor crying, "Uncle! For the love of bacon...UNCLE!"

Last night, the two of us went to a concert. I had been painting and scraping wallpaper all day (You've scraped wallpaper? I've scraped nine layers.) and barely made myself presentable before running out the door. When we got to the stadium, I realized I had forgotten to put my wedding ring on.

As I do a hundred times a day, I went to rub my thumb against my rings. Only I didn't feel metal, just bare skin. I turned to my husband and said, "Aw! I forgot to put my rings on! I rub them all the time and it feels so weird when they're missing".

He asked, "You rub them?"

I said, "Yeah. Not consciously, but I rub them all the time."

He replied, "Well, I do this...". And then he turned into Mr. Competitive, and French-kissed his wedding band.