Going To The Chapel

Rhonda’s son got married last weekend and it was lovely.  The new Mr. and Mrs. were all googly-eyed, Rhonda looked like a million bucks, the reception was fun and dancy, and The Big Daddy and I and the fam had a blast.

At the end of the wedding ceremony, the priest said the bride and groom would be seeing all of us shortly at the reception at 146th and Mission Road.  We came home for a spell and when it was time to leave for the party, The Big Daddy announced he knew E.X.A.C.T.L.Y where it was.  He bikes that way all the time.

On the drive there, he pointed out all the biking routes he’s taken.  “Now here I would normally go right and up that hill.  Look at that hill.”  This went on until I said to him that he didn’t have to share every stinkin’ detail to a bunch of non-biking passengers.  Sheesh, how ’bout you create some mystery once in awhile?

At 151st and Mission I told him he’d gone too far.  Nope, he said, it’s here.  Well, why did they say it was at 146th at the church?  I bike here all the time, he says,  So we’ve heard.  For twenty minutes.  Up and down the street we went arguing the entire time.  We turned at 146th and it was a park.  The event space was down yonder from there, but we didn’t figure that out until the second try.

By the time we pulled into the parking lot we pretty much couldn’t stand each other.  Nice wedding reception attitude.  We found a table and he made a beeline to the bar.  A glass of wine later, all was forgotten.

That night as I watched The Brand New Mr. and Mrs., I was tempted to tell those crazy-in-love kids……..Enjoy this night.  It’s absolutely perfect, and from this day forward you’d better buckle your seat belt cuz you’re about to go for a ride.

Source: etsy.com via Helen on Pinterest

Queen Mumisms

We recently went to see the fam.  Mallie Bee and I stayed with my mom, Big Daddy and the rest stayed a few miles away at my sister and brother-in-law’s house since neither house is big enough for all of us.

Since we’ve been married we’ve never lived all that close to home so I only see my mom a couple of times a year.  She’s always been entertaining, but especially this time when she was talking about this guy………….

Source: askmen.com via Susan on Pinterest

“That guy is such a horse’s ass,” she said one night.

WHAT?????????????????????

“Oh, he is.  He has no intention of ever marrying any of those babes he dates.  None whatsoever.”

True that, but LOOK. AT. THAT. FACE.  Then we watched Fashion Police because she loves Joan Rivers who’s face is only shown for seconds at a time so as not to scare the bejeezits out of anybody everybody.

The Gift

From the archives of The Big Daddy Bad Behavior file…………..

Years ago, we used to drive from Maryland to Illinois to spend Christmas with our families.  With little kids, it was a huge job to get them and everything they needed, plus all their Christmas presents, loaded up and into the car for the twelve hour drive.

We would arrive a few days before Christmas, and one or both of us would have to make a trip to the mall to finish up.  One year, The Big Daddy needed to make the trek on Christmas Eve to get a gift for me.  He was gone for hours, to the point where we were getting worried about him.  He finally made it back and went off to a bedroom to wrap his treasure.

And what could be this gift that took hours for him to find?  I couldn’t imagine.

On Christmas morn, when the kids had finished their Santa gifts, he presented my present.  I was full of anticipation, and ripped off the wrapping to discover a Stitchery Kit of Two Deer In The Woods.  Well, that wasn’t what I was anticipating.  Or wanting.

He explained that on the way to the mall, when he was driving by way of the Forest Preserve, he saw two deer in the woods and that’s when it came to him.  That deer live in the woods, I asked.   No, no, he said, that a deer themed gift was a sign.  Too bad the mall wasn’t by way of a diamond mine. 

My mom observed this and without saying a word, got up and went into the kitchen.  When I came in, she said, “I gave him plenty of ideas, even offered to go with him.  Who gets the mother of toddlers a gull damn project to do?”  My Big Daddy, that’s who. 

By then it was 12:00 somewhere and she cracked open the wine and poured us a glass.  Separated by many years, we each had our crosses in life to bear.  Dad, who took NINE YEARS to remodel the kitchen, and me, married to a guy who goes to every store in town on Christmas Eve to find a wildlife kit for his wife to stitch.

Another day.  Another Christmas.  Another star in the crown.

Christmas Ken

You may remember reading about Ken on my walks with the dog.  Lonely Ken.  Looks for me to talk to Ken.  Married to Barbie.

I saw Ken the other day raking about five leaves in the yard, and he stopped to chat and wish me, my family and my little dog, too, the best Christmas ever.  And a wonderful New Year because I have been so kind to him over the years.  No, I haven’t, Ken.  You’re being delusional.  We talked about our plans for the holidays and all was friendly until he said this……….

“I had the idea to watch for you so I could run out with some mistletoe and give you a Christmas kiss.”

Ken, Ken, Ken, that’s a dumbass idea.  And if I were you, I’d be real careful because Barbie’s watching you right now from the window of her dream kitchen, and sharpening the knife she’s going to use to Bobotize your molded plastic Manhood if you don’t stop hitting on chicks walking their dogs.

Merry Christmas.  You’re welcome.  Now I have to find a new route.

The First Noel

When The Big Daddy and I married, we lived about two hours from our parents.  He was in graduate school, I worked in a bank.  That year, Christmas Eve was on a Saturday.  The bank kept regular Saturday hours, 9 – 12, and I offered to work since we didn’t have much of a drive.

It started snowing early in the a.m.and was a swirling, blizzardy mess as the morning wore on.  There was stories of accidents and bad driving conditions from customers, and one of my coworkers who was going in the same general vicinity as me heard that the interstate was closed.  Puhleez.  There wasn’t all that much snow that could have accumulated in such a short time.

While that may have been true, in central Illinois there is nothing to stop the snow, and with the right wind conditions it certainly can close a highway.  So there we were, The Big Daddy and The Loan Processor spending Christmas alone in the dreary basement apartment.  With the roaches.

Because we had planned on being with the family, we had no tree.  Nor a Christmas dinner or gifts to open because we were broke.  Ho. To. The. Ho.  We dug in the fridge and came up with some cube steaks and a couple of beers.  Nothing celebrates the joy of Jesus’ birth like chewing on some gristle off of t.v. trays while watching MTV.   I was DEEpressed.

Finally, The Big Daddy said, “Enough.  We are getting out and going to the movies.. Your pick.”   That’s how we ended up at “Terms Of Endearment” and I had no idea Debra Winger was going to die.  I boo hooed and it was a miserable 1st married Christmas except for this…………..

In the movie, Jack Nicholson offers Shirley MacLaine a drink which she declines.  He tells her she should consider it “to kill the bug that crawled up your ass.”  I believe it’s one of the finest movie lines of all time and I have used it over and over.  In my head.  To people who make me nuts.

We went back to our place, killed some Christmas roaches in the bathroom and called it a night.  We eventually made it home to celebrate New Years with our families and we drank plenty.

Just to make sure.

Source: google.com via Sally on Pinterest

Processing The Food

Thanks to this………….

Source: howdesign.com via Meg on Pinterest

……….I’ve been branching out with some recipes, and it seems most of them require a food processor.  I had a small one at one time, but gave it away since it intimidated the hell out of me.  Just reading about pulsing gave me the heebie-jeebies.

The Big Daddy had a bumper crop of tomatoes that came in about hmmm…..October.  Tomatoes had taken over the homestead so I decided to make salsa which required a food processor.  I opted to use the blender instead with less than great results.  I told my tale of woe to my friend who offered me her food processor that she had never used.  Skerd, like me.  I put my big girl panties on, put that Mother on the counter and stared it down.

I have now made two new batches of salsa that The Fam is going crazy for and I AM IN LOVE WITH THE FOOD PROCESSOR!!!!  I returned it to my friend with a breathless description of its life changing power.  She wanted a piece of that action and made a sweet potato dish with the same results as me.  Now we talk about a kitchen appliance that has been around FOREVA, like we just lifted our skirts and got off the carriage from Amish country.

My mom has had a lifelong debilitating fear of yeast.  She’s always referred to it in a low whisper, like gossiping about somebody whose husband is going to the Big House for tax evasion.  Her advice to her kids, “Stay away from it..  Don’t even try it.”

I think somewhere along the way she may have gotten the Just Say No To Drugs campaign confused with Yeast, and crazy is as crazy was raised.