Vacation Countdown: 8 days!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Let it be!!!!!!!
Me and the ocean, seven days.
Let it be!!!!!!!
Before my sanity leaves me alone, bereft and struggling for purchase in this crazy world.
Stephen made the most delectable, sumptuous chili yesterday.
Just the way I like it.
A lovely red tinge to the juices, bursting with kidney beans, chick peas, black eyed beans, celery, lean, lean ground beef that was then washed in hot water once it had been cooked to remove any last traces of fat from the lean ground beef.
Because apparently, even lean ground beef has some fat.
It was bursting with spices, flavour, it was glorious.
At the same time, it was bursting with something else: three large jalapeno peppers.
Stephen's favourite kind.
The peppers, coupled with a liberal helping of Louisiana hot sauce made for a rather spicy chili.
A lot spicier than the chili I regularly make.
I knew the minute I finished the first bowl that I was going to be in trouble.
So the second bowl was just punishment.
But it was so good. . . . .that's my only defence.
And sure enough, the chili make it's presence known within an hour of eating it.
While I was in the Superstore.
More specifically, the condiment aisle.
Engaged in the search for vinegar.
The aisle was busy with other shoppers searching for pickles to compliment their evening meal, or other such sundry items that can be found in the pack shelves of a Superstore condiment et al. aisle.
Stephen is ahead of me, eager for the vinegar.
I'm a little bit behind him, pushing a small cart containing a bag of milk and a box of kosher salt.
And then it happened.
No warning.
No internal voice in my head saying, something is going to happen, prepare.
Nothing.
Making me just as surprised as everyone else in the condiment aisle when I opened my mouth and out came the most obnoxious, loudest, noisiest, wet sounding BELCH.
Burp.
Whatever you want to call it.
It was loud.
Very loud.
Surround sound, bass turned up to it's highest setting loud.
As if in slow motion, Stephen turns around and looks at me, eyes wide with astonishment, the corners of his mouth beginning to curl into a smile which will eventually fill out into a full bodied belly laugh.
A young couple out for their Friday night shop turned and looked at me with such surprise, laced with a tinge of disgust.
Others in the aisle were polite enough to avert their eyes as I walked past them towards Stephen so he could put his f***ing vinegar in the cart and we could get the hell out of there.
In front of me was a cloud of chili smelling belch that I, and thankfully only I, was subjected to.
Not to mention the chili that made a return visit to my mouth.
Resulting in the addition of a box of Eno to small grocery cart.
Punishment for enjoying Stephen's chili continued throughout the evening.
There were several more belches while in the vicinity of the Superstore.
In the car.
All the way from the northside to the theater.
And each one was as bad as, if not worse than the preceding belch.
I was so glad to get home where I could Eno up and belch in peace.
Only having to live amid the snickers and sly looks of my family.
As opposed to the Friday night Superstore shoppers.
A decision has been made in this house regarding the "putting up" of dill pickles.
Hence the reason for our being at the Superstore during BELCHFEST 2011.
In spite of the time crunch we've experienced this month, and the looming closeness of the beginning of the term, spending today and tomorrow making dill pickles isn't the worst thing we could do.
May even be fun.
At this moment, gleaming Mason jars, 25 in all, are lined up like toy soldiers on the counter.
Three large containers of white vinegar are standing straight beside a large box of kosher salt.
All we need are the actual cucumbers.
A mission that will be accomplished this morning, once Em has been dropped off to work and we can get to the Big Potato for purchasing.
We were on our way to get cucumbers last evening.
Keith in the backseat wanting to spend time with us, or, just wanting to go for the drive.
Either way, he was with us and I was happy he was there.
However, we were waylaid just as we crossed the Westmoreland Street Bridge with a phone call from Em, indicating that she had finished early and was more than ready to come home.
She was also feeling very, very ill.
The result of eating a Spam sandwich sometime between midnight and two am Friday morning.
No one should eat Spam.
And never in late night/wee hours of the morning.
Em has such a sensitive digestive system, which has been in direct opposition to her competitive nature to the point that it has been completely ignored.
Until yesterday.
Because her digestive system may be more subtle than her competitive nature, but it is certainly more powerful and was determined it would be heard.
Given full attention.
Resulting in Em and me on the couch last evening, just sitting watching television while she relaxed and did nothing.
Attempting mininal recovery.
For a little while.
Until she was feeling somewhat restored, at least enough to make a pop up book for this scavenger hunt.
While watching Jersey Shore.
At which point, I left, because even a tummy troubled Em can't keep in the living room with Jersey Shore on the tv.
But only with the explicit agreement that she get herself into bed by midnight, because what she needed more than anything was a decent night's sleep.
And not to stay up until all hours of the morning preparing things for the scavenger hunt.
She is also extremely distraught because she has misplaced her phone.
Again.
It was last seen Thursday evening, at the theater and sometimes between midnight and when she arrived home at 2.00 am, her phone became MIA.
Causing Em much distress.
Much.
We've torn her room apart, even dismantling Reilley's carefully made nest of blankets, much to his chagrin.
The nest needs to be washed.
Her purse has been dismantled.
All that's left is to search a co-worker's car (if he'll let me), see if the theater cleaning crew found anything, and put out a general plea for human decency and return her phone if they have it.
Em's sanity and mine rest upon good faith and human decency.
Are we ever in trouble.
Title Lyric: Baby Likes Burping by Weird Al Yankovic
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