Hello gorgeous ones! Did we all have a lovely Thursday, be it thankful or otherwise? Did we stuff ourselves with far too much food, wine, and whatever that wiggly dessert thing was, because at that point everyone was too drunk to care? If so, rest assured and bloated that I’m proud of you. If not…. well, there’s always Christmas.
What’s that? You want to hear about my Thanksgiving? Of course you do!
Naturally, we kicked things off with a scene in the grocery store, in which we caused a perfect stranger (they’re all perfect here in the Great White North) to do permanent damage to his neck in order to ignore us. Midwestern Polite – it’s real, and I get a kick out of tweaking its nose.
HIM: (grabs his two cases of Coca-Cola. Addict)
ME: (leaning against the shelf) That’s it?
HIM: Should be enough for the weekend, yeah.
ME: And perhaps you’d care to explain why you didn’t grab THIS one? (points, with dramatic flourish, to a bottle labeled “Soulmate”)
ME: (dramatic eyebrow)
HIM: Grab it if you want!
ME: My POINT is that you didn’t get it yourself. You took the ones with someone else’s FACE on.
HIM: it’s SANTA!
Fast forward to Thursday, in which I pulled out all my Martha-Stewart-only-better tricks (seriously, I’m amazeballs in the kitchen) and even managed to put in the obligatory call to my father. Who was maybe already inebriated around noon, but hey, holidays!
[Background: one of my father’s weird/redeeming qualities is that he HATES for us to buy a tool or household-useful man-thing if he’s already got one. And he’s got all of them. He hates this so much that he’s been known to go out and buy more so that we can borrow from a variety in his workshop rather than buy one of our own (actual thing he actually did when we needed a sander and he forgot to ask what kind before telling us to come by and borrow his – he just ran out and bought the styles he didn’t already have). We used to live a lot closer, so borrowing tools was a thing we did, but not so much since we were evacuated to the frozen tundra.]
I finished up my phone call, complete with non-sequitur topic changes whenever I just didn’t want to hear it (oh, like you don’t do it?) and was recapping for Husband
ME: So I was telling Dad about the ladder and he was all “well I’ve got…” and I had to point out that he lives too far away to loan us shit. Not gonna have him drive a thousand miles in the dead of winter to bring us a damned ladder.
HIM: That would be a lot of exposure rolls.
HIM: Air five, ‘cuz that was actually funny?
Why air five? Because he was a good 15 feet away from me at the time. Man knows better than to hover over me in the kitchen when there’s holiday cooking going on. Actually, one of the great traditions he brought to this union was the bringing of holiday breakfast, so that I don’t have to provide that as well (he can cook, for the record, and is in charge of approximately half of our staple dishes and all of our frozen stuffs, but holidays are MINE) usually in the form of pastries.
You. Cannot. Have. Him.
As a rule, we don’t do the whole Black Friday thing. I say “as a rule” because what actually ends up happening is that every single year we end up needing/deciding to go out “just this once” to “just this one store” for “just this one thing” and it’s almost become a joke, to me, that he still insists that he doesn’t “do” Black Friday.
ME: So that was it. You black Fridayed.
ME: Was it just awful? Did you die?
HIM: Meh. I don’t know… I just don’t think black Fridays matter
ME: (shocked giggle) No. You can’t… just… no.
HIM: Okay. Too far. But you laughed!
I did. I probably shouldn’t, though; it only encourages him.
So here we are on Sunday. Outdoor lighting will commence today, if all goes to plan, but it’s too fucking cold to start that shit just yet so for now you get me telling you little stories about the last couple of days. I will try to post more often, but in my defense he says so many ridiculous things so frequently that I just don’t think to grab my phone and make a note of it. I know, the fault is entirely my own and yet you suffer for it. Cruel world.
Ooh, one last thing! I actually DID make a note of this one, but honestly cannot remember when it happened. Because, frankly, it could have been any point all week.
HIM: (something ridiculous)
ME: What are you, four?
HIM: Times ten!
You still can’t have him.