Oh mighty interwebs, how you amuse me with your advertising and your behind-the-scenes formulas for placing the right ad on the right content.
And so, as I was searching for a delicious, yet not healthy at all, soup recipe, I found this.
Yeah, so given the choice of whatever torture, pill or unguent I have to endure for the “tiny belly” or to nosh on homemade cheddar beer soup, I’m gonna go with the soup.
And the beer. One for the soup, one for the cook.
Oh yes, I’ve got scientific studies to prove it too!
Soon after The Good Man and I started dating, we found we had a certain simpatico that really worked for a relationship.
See, I’m a very tactile person. I have to touch stuff. And when I have a cute boy around, I have to touch. A lot. Not in that naughty way you dirty minded readers are thinking (well, ok, that too). I mean like twirling fingers on an arm, scratching a back, and rubbing a noggin.
Come to find out, The Good Man really likes having the ol’ cabeza massaged. I can usually put him to sleep with gentle noggin rubs.
Hmmm. : puts end of pencil in mouth in a very laboratory scientist sort of way :
Ok, so then, we were at a friend’s home down on the floor playing with their twin toddlers. The girl climbed up into my lap, and I noticed the downy hair on top of her head was sticking up from static. So I took my hand and smoothed her hair flat onto her head. As I rubbed her head, her eyes rolled back into her head and she laid back in my arms.
Hmmm.
Then I was babysitting my friend’s three month old baby. The little one was fussy as heck and fighting sleep. I’d tried bottles, change the nappies, singing, rocking, the swingy chair. Nothing. So, heck, I gave the noggin a shot. I began to gently rub her little dome and before I knew it, she’d nuzzled into my neck and was snoring softly.
Well, well, well.
And THEN I saw this video on ICanHazCheezeburger.com. That toad approximates what The Good Man looks like when I issue scritchin’s.
My final piece of evidence was this past weekend at the Monterey Bay Aquarium. At the splash pool where we could pet Bat Rays, my cousin lured one over and I followed behind him to get my own shot at Bat Ray petting.
I tried to give a firm petting to the headlike lump on top of the ray and I’ll be damned if that Bat Ray didn’t keep swimming back to my hand. It would dip his head right under it like, “scratch that again, lady.”
So here’s my big theory based up by mammal and amphibian trials:
All creatures great and small like to have their noggin skritched.
I know, I know. Groundbreaking work!
I know I have a unique view on the world sometimes.
In fact, I kind of enjoy that.
Sometimes, it wearies the people around me.
Sometimes, it even perplexes me.
An example. A few years back, I was in a department store with a friend. We were looking for a gift for another friend’s wedding. By the escalator, there was a sign. It said:
“Elevator located in China.”
I was honestly confused.
“What the hell!?” I shouted. “What good does an elevator do me all the way over in China? And where is it? Bejing? Tiananmen Square? What the sam hell??”
My patient friend pointed out…”Uh…China…you know, like plates and cups?”
“Oh. That.”
Yeah. I’m sharp as a marble.
What got me thinking about my backwards brain today was when I passed by a local church.
The sign outside declares it to be a “Transfiguration” church.
I’ve never heard of a Transfiguration church, and I’m sure it’s something quite legitimate and spiritual.
But to me, a Harry Potter reader, I can’t help but think….
As people sit there, solemnly praying, you keep hearing that *pop* sound.
The minister says, “Let us pray.”
*pop* He’s a horse.
*pop* A rabbit.
*pop* A cat.
*pop* A goat.
*pop* A donkey.
And let’s be honest, the visual image cracks me up every time.
Every single dingle time I drive past that church.
*pop*!
Hee!
Ugh, what a brain!
Time to bake a cake, eat a cookie, wear a hat and toot a horn.
We have a fifty year old in the house. Oh yes we do!
Don’t be shy, come forward and take your praise.
Oh Bubble Wrap, you are the best.
Always there when I need you, protecting fragile things.
Providing endless fun and stress reduction with your pop-popping sound as I squeeze the beejebus out of your little bubbly parts.
And when the world went cyber tech, you came along, giving me a faboo iPhone app that lets me pop your virtual bubbles whenever I darn well feel like.
You’ve carefully covered precious cargo and you’ve provided hours of fun.
You are useful, bubble wrap, and I for one can’t imagine my life with out you.
Now, let’s all raise a glass.
Cheers! To bubble wrap’s fifty years. May we have another joyful 50 ahead!
Oh, this could be a serious and solemn post.
It’s not gonna be, however.
So you see…my rock star mom-in-law is a Brooklyn girl, and at the holidays, she has traditions in keeping with where she was raised.
In her words: “Not untypically for someone from Brooklyn in my day for most of my adult life, I’ve made Italian food for the holidays. Often the menu included a seafood dish like spaghetti and clams for Christmas or New Years Eve and usually a lasagna on Christmas Day.”
Italian food? Oh I’m ALL about that.
This holiday season it was her very generous idea to celebrate the holidays with the foods from my childhood in New Mexico.
That means tamales that we handmade together, a pan of Hatch green chile enchiladas and a big pot o’ beans.
To help set the atmosphere, my mom-in-law brought over some accoutrements including Mexican hot chocolate, a tortilla warmer, and an Our Lady of Guadalupe votive candle.
We lit Our Lady up and enjoyed dinner by her warm candlelight.
So the holidays passed by, as they will. The Good Man and I began to dismantle the holiday displays in our home and put things away.
Our Lady of the Fabulous Christmas Feast had been on the coffee table for a couple weeks, but after New Years she had disappeared. The Good Man had stowed her away somewhere. Fair enough, right?
But then…I was rather startled to, uh, find her.
Here:
I call her “Our Lady of Fartima.”
The Good Man never laughs when I do.
But I crack myself up every time. I think being able to make your ownself laugh is the key to a long life.
Side note to Ephraim: I realize yesterday I promised to try and keep it classy on the blog today. I failed miserably. I’ll try again on Monday, ok?