December 7, 2011

Quiet Toot Weddennessday

 
 
Last night was sushi night for my friend Michelle and I. It's so delicious and we have so much fun that we've decided to make this a regular thing - just us. We have so little in common, yet the peripheral importance is all the same. Michelle is a chemical engineer, RN, *and* mechanical engineer. She's the shiznit, Peeps. I watch her work daily, and I help her get what she needs into our facility to keep people safe. Also, she works with the Hubs and agrees totally that he is the cutest cuterson that exists on the face of this planet. [Let's deny I actually just blogged that sentence.] This week for sushi night we shared miso soup, edamame (glory be I could eat this all.day.long), Tokyo roll, Red Dragon roll (with delicious eel and avocado on top) and Volcano roll. Conversations involved Jesus (Hollah!), a really cool digital watch, some Hebrew scripture, and boys. I didn't leave until they closed the place around us at 10:30. Shit, by then I could have eaten a peanut avocado roll for dessert. Guess I'll have to wait until next week. Tee hee. Sushi night is a really, really cool thing.
 
I dropped Mabes off at home last night on my way out with Michelle. She was sad she couldn't go with us for 'girl time' and she told me so. "But, Mommy, I don't have to eat suuuuuushi. I will take a big, whole apple wif me. I will eat that and be so, so quiet!" Bless her soul. But, no. Instead she was the lone ranger on boy night with Bryon and the boys at their favorite sports bar. There was pool playing, popcorn, and running screaming forever. They all were asleep by 8:30.
 
From the middle of his crazy, Husband texted me during dinner to ask the color of my underwear. He is the COOLEST EVAH.
 
Yesterday morning, it was -12 degrees. Here we had the warmest ever November (well, ever that *I* can remember in my 3 years here), and then BLAM. Winter is upon us. We didn't see a flake of snow until last Saturday, and then only 1/2". I am ready for the dump to come. I remember how much I love the smell of snow. Did you know snow had a smell? Does. It's clean-smelling. I think it has a sound, too. Sort of a crunchy fluff noise. Roll your eyes at me all you want. I fully admit I have a love affair with the snow.
 
Within the next couple of days I truly must finish up my last painting project at home and take some photos for you to see. Would do me well to take some of the Christmas decorations that are almost entirely up, too. We're waiting until tomorrow when we have Hales again to finish the tree.
 
When I was little, my mother and I made sugar cookies every Christmas season. We'd tuck them into tins and hand them out to friends and church families. Dozens and dozens of super thin, almond-extract filled sugar cookies. I sprinked sugar crystals and non-pareils on top. We also made gingerbread bears. Oh, how I LOVED those little bears. They were time consuming to make but super delicious. I have that recipe somewhere in mom's handwriting; I need to dig it out.
 
I miss my mommy. I wish she lived closer, or that I could afford to visit with the kids. Live is too short to live far apart. Sniffle.
 
I feel fat today. Maybe has something to do with my first thoughtstream up there and the who-knows-how-many calories consumed. Might need to work that off later. [Metal note: Homeslice]
 
I don't feel like cooking tonight. Well, I do, but I will be too tired after stopping at Walmart to pick up Christmas card pictures and then stopping at Target for the whole swoop-schlep-Christmas-listofcrap stuff. With the million people that will most definitely be in Target, we will be fighting crowds and tired. That fat feeling might have to continue for another day.
 
Bryon and I had a marraige session with Plowman this week wherein we discussed Christmas traditions: mine from my childhood and previous marriage, and his from the same. We talked about traditions we can keep and new ones to create to support as a family of 6. Some of the things we do: Christmas lights + thermoses of hot cocoa = driving around in the car for hours, Elvis Christmas music + Tom & Jerry's 'tea', and cinnamon rolls for Christmas morning breakfast.
 
 
There is a defect in the carpet that was laid in the basement. It has a line, of sorts, straight through the middle of the family room. It's tiny, but yo - I can see it. And, Folks, we all know I am particular. Anyway, they want to come and trim it up. I need to find time to schedule that. Holy geez.
 
Hales will not be leaving town this Christmas, so we'll be four heavy. I'm not sure if we will be celebrating on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day this year... her mom will decide which she wants and we will take the other. That's fine with me, so long as we know prior to say, a week before. This last minute bullshit makes me cah-razy.
 
Okay. Something enormous happened and I must tell you about it. I wasn't going to, but I really can't hold it back. Last week sometime, Bryon and I were sitting on the couch cuddled under a quilt and watching a movie. Mabel was in bed and the boys were on the floor in front of us. Family movie night sort of thing. La la la what a wonderful moment when - I felt a terrible rumbly in my tumbly and ever so quietly just you know, tooted. QUIETLY. No noise. Now, y'all aren't going to believe me when I tell you this (and my mother is hanging her head in embarrassment just now), but 99% of the time, my toots go unnoticed, if you know what I mean. Really, they do. But that 1%? Yeah, it is DEADLY. Apparently, I mean. So, the quiet toot that was not small just floated out and I said nothing. I didn't move, I didn't anything. Within seconds, the one tiny crack in the quilt closest to my face leaked up a stench that made my eyelashes fall out. My nose squinked up and my eyes started to water. I had a choice: say nothing and let the smell hit my darling husband, who was sitting only 12 inches away or confess and face the ultimate level of embarrassment. In seconds I was overcome with putrid funk and so I shot my hand into the air classroom style and shouted, "I did it! that was me! Sorry!"
 
All 3 boys looked at me with blank stares. Slightly annoyed because I'd distracted them from the movie in the first place, actually.
 
"I did it. It smells terrible and I'm so sorry! Honey, hide!" I covered him with the quilt, which really basically wafted the butt smell everywhere. My nose was burning. Yes, they laughed. But they didn't laugh at me for farting, they laughed at me for making a big deal of the farting. And? AND? I SOLD MYSELF OUT FOR NOTHING. No smell, they said. They swore [I think they lied]. Now, a lady's nose never lies. But it's possible I can maybe smell my own innards with better precision than boys. Either way, I made an idiot of myself and became human at the same time. End of story. Goodbye.

1 comment:

  1. Oh no! I'm crying from laughing again, you crazy woman!

    You reminded me of "the cabin rental episode from my teens in which my dad ate a lot of spicy Italian at a new restaurant and my brother and I ended up with our faces pressed to the slightly open doorway because it was freezing outside and we were being gassed/defoliated/introduced to biological warfare."

    If you were a guy, you would have given Bryon a Dutch Oven, so I find no offense in your ladylike admission of who did it.

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