"Balla" Wife

I'm no Michael Jordan--well, not in theory, but maybe in practice--and neither is Marisa. But man did we have an intense game of basketball last night on our 1' by 1' basketball hoop!

Marisa put up a good fight. In fact, probably too much. She threw me into the dresser drawer one time--rude! And threw some cheap shots. But I let her get away with it. The initial rules were fist one to seven, win by two. Marisa kept changing the rules on me though. Finally, out of the pure mercy of my kind heart, I told her I would play only with my left hand.

Eventually we both kept scoring so we had to make a "next point wins" rule. Now, I'm not Keven McHale in this picture getting smothered, nor Robert Parish sheepishly looking at what is about to happen; in reality, I don't even want to claim the famed Larry Bird because they're all getting embarrassed by one amazing ball player. I do, however, want to give some credit to my amazing wife. Yeah, you guessed it: she won. And her last point was close to what Michael is doing here. I'm not at all embarrassed thought because everyone reading this would probably get worked twice as bad as I did, even if you played with your right hand.