Friday Flotsam

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I have good news! I’m not such a sissy anymore. It’s true, you guys. Motherhood has crept into my soul cavity and flipped off the sissy switch, turning it to bada$$. (I put the dollar signs so that my mom doesn’t think I’m cursing.)

Pre-motherhood, there would be ABSOLUTELY NO WAY IN HAIL I would ever stick my hand down in a garbage disposal to retrieve the goop. No way. You couldn’t pay me enough. There are alligators, leeches and dead bodies down there.

Now? Now that I’ve had Will and Natalie, I can stick half my torso down in there to find out what’s causing the racket, and it ain’t no thang. I can pull out meat fat and not even flinch. Lemon rinds and not even wince. Ginger root nubs and not even cringe.

I say all this, as five minutes later a tiny black rubber band wiggled in our junk drawer and sent me into ballistics.

Omg speaking of. Okay, so in true Aaron fashion, he pulls up to the house earlier this week with a “surprise” for me in his car. We all know about his love affair with drift wood from river banks, but I think it’s starting to spiral out of control. Home dude has managed to bring home AN ENTIRE TREE LOG. Like, Fox and the Hound-style. HUGE. ENORMOUS. OUTRAGEOUS. And I’m obsessed with it.

So he arranges it on our back patio, kind of nestled up to our bedroom window wall. Later that night as we’re getting ready for bed, we notice like, 10-20 LARGE black ants crawling the walls and floors of our room. I mean like, colossal. These things made Jurassic World look like an adorable play date. Of course I basically freak my ish. Where are they coming from!? Why all of a sudden!? What did I do to deserve this!? Why does that one have fangs!?

THE LOG.

So Aaron goes outside and sprays (organic, simmer down) bug spray all along the windows and base of the wall. Once all the ants were sweetly and tenderly removed from our room (read: bawling and squishing), we settle into bed. Hello, there’s no way I can sleep in this room. What if more ants come for me in the night? What if they attack my face like frickin’ Gulliver’s Travels?

After a bit of obvious tossing and turning, I actually start to drift off. UNTIL, I notice the HUGEST BROWN RECLUSE on my nightstand. Like, not even two feet away from.my.face. OMG, I bolted out of bed so freaking fast, screaming at Aaron from the other side of the room in less than a second.

“TURN ON THE LIGHT!!! THERE’S A SPIDER ON MY NIGHTSTAND! AND THERE’S ONE NEXT TO YOU, TOO! TURN ON THE LIGHT, AARON! GET OUT OF THERE!”

He turns on the light, visibly pissed at my totally necessary hysterics. “There are no spiders, Bev. Seriously, you need medication for this.”

Oh. I guess I was dreaming. Oops?

Can we just look at this for a moment? This is a real life cookbook for little children, that was actually mine as a child, that my mom gave to me last week during our visit. Um, I’m sorry, but it’s terrifying. Who would want to make burger faces like that? No one. No one is going to make creepy burger faces. Not you. Not me. Not any child. And don’t try to fan out little pickles on either side of the plate, BETTY. I’m not buying it. And the whole book is filled with even more creepy recipes with faces. Dog heads made out of pears and cherries. No. Baby alligators made out of puff pastry. No. Ghost cake with flaming eggshell eyes. No. No. No.

I can’t wait to cook from this book.

Okay, what is Snapchat? Is this something I need in my life? I’m seeing more and more people mention it here and there, and I’m like, really? Another thing? Is it like, ephemeral messages? Here and then gone? What’s the exact purpose of it? Do you like it? Should I like it? Should I keep asking questions about it?

Weekend plans? It’s Father’s Day! Almost. We’re gonna kick it around here mostly. I’m making beer brats for dinner tonight, taking a trip to the nursery tomorrow for more enormous indoor plants (because apparently I need more), a trip to the splash park with the babies, starting “Luckiest Girl Alive” for book club (have you read it!?), a bunch of rosé sippin’ (I’ll get more into that in a few weeks), and just all around chilling. Except it’s going to be 25,634 degrees outside. So more like all around burning to ash.

Okay so really, is there medication I can take for my bug fears? See, I asked. Happy Father’s Day, AARON.