That's Not a Knife....

... this is a knife.

Most of you know Biggsy as a relatiavely mild-mannered, hard-working, up-and-coming senior-level executive of the smallest segment of a privately-held, mid-cap energy equipment firm.

However, when push comes to shove, he knows how to shove.

Knowing that my life as a stay-at-home Mom becomes a bit stressful during the summer time when I have to actually Mom, Biggsy whisked me away to Mexico last weekend for an adventure. Since this is a family-friendly blog, I won't go into all the details. But let's just say it involved a beach, a lot of margaritas and some salsa dancing on a table.

And a knife fight.

Ya'll all know I like to talk. A lot. And sometimes I don't exactly know when to stop. We were in this bar. I should have known better because the clientele wasn't exactly touristy. And well, I don't know that the term clientele would exactly apply. This guy looked at me and made some sort of derogatory statement. And growing up in West Texas, I know just enough Spanish to know what he said.

So I made a snappy retort back, and before you know it, Biggsy was defending my honor in what has to have been one of the most terrifying, yet exciting, knife fights of all time.



Not really. We were home, fireworks were going off, and Jake didn't like it. When he'd about demolished a window screen, Biggs put him in the garage. But not before Jake made it clear that was not where he wanted to be.