Shotgun

There are many pros and cons to being tall. Con - being called Daddy Long Legs all throughout jr high, having to stand in the back of every photo ever taken, not finding a date to the prom that didn't come up to your shoulders, etc. Pro - Standing out in a crowd (in a great, regal way), always being able to reach the highest shelf, knowing that no one will ever mistake you for a munchkin, etc. The list (both of em!) go on and on but one thing that's always a winner for tall folks is automatic shotgun.

Granted, most of the time you need shotgun so as not to have your knees smushed into your chin. But sometimes shotgun really pays off. Like tonight, when, upon piling back into NF's car after a delish dinner at Ten Tables Cambridge (more to come on that later but for reals, go now!), it was a given that I would get the front seat. This came in particularly handy given that the back seat was occupied by an enormous car seat box and the two ladies who were fortunate enough to ride in it had to determine a way to crush both their bodies and this enormo box into one back seat.

It wasn't neccesarily a long car ride but I'm grateful - as I so often am - to my dad for blessing me with these long ass legs of mine so that, while I got to stretch out in the front seat, poor K got stuck being trampled by a box half the size of her own self! Add one to the pro list! Tomorrow some loser will ask me if I ever played basketball for UConn and the scales might tip in the other direction but, for tonight, I go to bed happy and with uncrampd calves. Thanks Dad!!