Author: Mrs. Completely

I’m Cranky Today

I’m kind of cranky today. I hate days like that.  I’m usually perfectly content and happy and roll with the occasional punches.  Not today though.  I’m tired because I had a shitty sleep last night and my shoulders and neck are sore, that space between my eyebrows has a headache and I have a slight stomach ache.  I should probably be wearing warning labels.  If I did they would say:

  • KEEP BACK 30 METERS…..or further. Yes, further is better.
  • DANGER OF BALLISTIC MISSILES….some may actually explode on impact.
  • DO NOT ENGAGE THIS PERSON….unless you have doughnuts….or chocolate cake.
  • BEWARE OF HIDDEN WEAPONS….actually just beware of any weapon, hidden or otherwise.
  • SUSPEND ALL REQUESTS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE….seriously, don’t ask me for a damned thing.

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Guerilla Shopping

Shopping is not something I enjoy.  Grocery shopping is a nightmare of trying to avoid all the food that start yelling at me the moment I walk through the automatic doors.  It’s even worse when I’m hungry and those fucking doughnuts start up with me.  Clothes shopping is an even bigger nightmare because….well….I have big boobs…..and nothing fits properly.  I’m left trying to find the best fit that doesn’t fit so I can take it to a tailor who can make it fit.  Sigh.

And then there is the matter of shopping for things for our home. Thankfully, The Viking doesn’t interfere very often because the only things he’s really interested in is the refrigerator, the TV and the bed, everything in between is just fluff.

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I’m Not Criminally Inclined. Seriously.

Tape: It’s one of those things that I just can’t seem to master.  I have all the latest in Tape-Taming Technology at my fingertips but I still get it stuck to my skin or my clothes or the table and once it got stuck to The Viking when he happened to be walking past as I was wrapping a Christmas Gift.  I had to chase him all the way outside to peel the tape from the back of his head.  Sometimes static builds up and it sticks to itself and a wrestling match ensues.  I blame this on William Gilbert who invented static electricity.  Thanks for that, William!

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We had a Non-Argument Argument Last Night

Let’s talk about arguments. I don’t like them so I don’t do them.  The Viking is pretty much the same.  So we have these moments where something has happened and we freeze.  Neither one of us wants to confront the other so we sort of stand there looking at anything but each other.  We both have a role in this moment and we both completely understand who is at fault and who is the innocent party.

Without making eye contact we both kind of wander slowly away, both of us hoping the phone will ring or someone will knock on the door. The rest of the day becomes awkward because I should probably apologize or The Viking should, but making that apology would mean revisiting the thing that happened and neither of us wants that.  Eventually, someone will call or visit to distract us and we can go back to being not awkward again.

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Things I Find in my Bra

Let’s talk about Boobs. I have big ones which are more of a hindrance and less ‘sexy appendages’ the older I get.  A friend of mine once said, “Big boobs are only good for one thing……feeding the baby without taking it out of the crib”, and I have to concur.  I would happily give them to the first female I heard bemoaning her compact titlets.

There are challenges to having big boobs. For example, restaurant tables are all ‘Boob Height’; I like to call them Boob Tables because as soon as I sit down my boobs are resting on the table top.  The Viking enjoys the view but so does everyone else who happens to walk past or is taking our order.  Sure, it means I don’t necessarily have to wear a bra for support when I go out for dinner but that just makes the journey from the car to the table sort of weird.  Either The Viking or I have to hold them because no one wants to watch them sway back and forth as I walk.  Sure, I could probably hypnotize people to do my bidding – that is actually a very good idea! – but that would make us late for our reservation.

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#weekendcoffeeshare

I decided to participate in a blogging event (What I would say if I had coffee with you this weekend) and this is my submission. 

If we were having coffee I would hug you tightly because I love you and then I would put our favorite, brilliantly fattening, whipped confection of a coffee in front of you. We would both take a moment to breathe deep and cast off the minutiae of every day cares so we can just enjoy this short time of friendship and love.  I know you have been down lately.  You haven’t answered my texts or returned my calls.  I understand why without you ever saying it out loud.  Sometimes dealing with the world is unbearable.  It’s okay though because you are here now.  I would give you one more hug, just because.

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Cat and the Poodle Tree

I had a cat. Maggie.  She was black and the most anti-social cat on the planet but she was so good and brave and she was totally committed to me.  When she met The Viking she watched him for 76 seconds and decided he was the man for her.  And me.  But mostly for her.

And then she got sick and we couldn’t fix her so we had to put her down and I cried for days. And then Mim bought a cat about a year later.  Dexter.  Mim worked during the day and you should never leave a baby home alone so I said I would kitty sit.  But guess who completely forgot what raising a kitten was like?

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The Tooth Fairy, Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny

Mim came to me one day when she was about 8 years old and told me quite firmly that she knew the Tooth Fairy wasn’t real. I asked her why she was so sure.  She said Junior told her.  After a stink eye toward Junior, I said to Mim, “Thank God!  Your father can stop wearing that silly Tooth Fairy outfit.”  Yes.  I actually did say that.  It was one of those flashes of brilliance that surprises me more than the person I said it to.

And that was that. No more frantic searches for a quarter at 11:00 at night.  No more sad little girl because the Tooth Fairy didn’t come for her tooth the night before because someone (Kukah!) forgot to make the switch like he promised to do.

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Food that isn’t Food

I was in the grocery store the other day, cruising around the produce department hoping something would jump off the displays and into my cart with an inspiration for an amazing dinner dish…….that would cook itself and do up the dishes afterwards. I watched other shoppers who seemed so sure, like they already knew what they were making for supper.  They are probably spawns of Martha Stewart who have a month of meal plans posted on some artsy-fartsy push pin board decorated with cute sewing projects that look like vegetables.  Damn them!

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Father-isms

My Father is a Ruralite. He’s spent his entire life in rural areas and he’s picked up some colorful ‘isms’ over the years that pepper his conversations.  These ‘isms’ are charming and humorous but how did they ever become part of rural vernacular?  Didn’t anyone question the guy who said it for the first time?  A group of dudes standing around and one of them says “Wow!  That works Slicker than Goose Shit in a Tin Horn” and no one looks at the guy and says “How would you know how slick shit becomes in a tin horn, Frank?”  And you know it was a guy who said it first because a woman would have said something along the lines of “Wow!  That was easier than sticking your finger in bacon fat!” and every woman around her would nod in agreement because they all know exactly how easy it is to stick your finger in bacon fat.

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