Friday Flotsam

FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRamlambam.

“That’s the rub.”

Have you . . . ever heard this phrase? And it’s not “That’s A rub.” It’s “That’s THE rub.”

What’s the rub? What’s a rub? Like a dry rub? A massage? What exactly are we talking about?

I discover, on an hourly basis, just how elderly I’m speedily becoming when I’m around my friends. My two girlfriends (one a year older, one a few years younger, but both wildly intelligent) came over last Friday and during one of our conversations about something obviously important, Lacy goes, “That’s the rub.”

“The what? The rub? Is this TikTok code for drugs?” (name that reference. not the Tiktok part. But the “code for drugs” part. Dig deep. Go way back. I’ll even give you a hint. Grandparents, cream love seat, sport coat, eyebrow jutted in disapproval. You can do this.)

While you’re here, I’ll tell you what “that’s the rub” means. It’s, and I quote, “the difficult or obnoxious or annoying part of a situation. ‘I love traveling, but that mask mandate. Yeah, that’s the rub.'” <–However, I’m all about masks on a plane. I’m just quoting my friend.

Do you SAY this phrase? And furthermore, how do you feel about yourself after you’ve said it? No wrong answers here, you guys.

Have you ever thought about when you leave a small group at a table and go to the restroom, the volume of the voices at the table happens to get lower? But it’s (most likely) only because you’ve gotten up to go to the restroom, thus disrupting the flow of conversation, and they’re (most likely) not talking about you when you go pee, but only trying to find themselves in the convo flow again. Or maybe they’re checking their phone in the lull. But when you notice that the volume has gone down, you can’t help but wonder if, now that you’ve left the table, the subject matter is in fact you.

BUT, and this is where it turns around. Once their voice volume has reached a normal, acceptable decibel again, you breathe a sigh of relief because the conversation is (most likely) not about you. Well, not anymore. You subconsciously wait for the volume to rise in the other room, so you can focus on your business, which no longer involves the phrase, “Were you talking about me?”

Not that this has ever happened to me.

Okay so, what exactly can’t Hall & Oates go for?

I mean, they’ll do anything that you want them to. Sorry sorry, they’ll do almost anything that you want them to.

But they can’t for that? WHAT? WHAT can’t they go for?

Are we talking laundry here? Changing a tire? Some weird kinky acrobatic skill only read about on a torn scroll from yesterlore? What can’t they go for exactly? I just feel like they need to be a little more specific so we’re all on the same page and feelings don’t get hurt, or messages misconstrued. It’s obviously a delicate situation, given an entire song was written about it.

Just let me know what it is. Not open your mail anymore? I mean, okay.

OH NO! I’m so sorry, you guys. I had that quote totally wrong. (I know you’ve been unsettled about this.) It’s not “is that code for drugs.”

But I can’t say the whole thing because it will completely give it away. (to like, .2 of you.)

Here it is, sort of: “If ‘that’s the rub’ is some sort of drug reference, it isn’t funny.”

Noooooow you’ll obviously get it in no time. Isn’t being friends with me so much fun??

(Don’t answer that.)

Weekend plans?

We’re getting on a boat today! With a slide, and a splash pad, and yes I’m keeping my phone hidden and safe for 88% of the day. #cannedwine We’ve got Arkansas friends in town (!), so we’ll be boating today (read: not sailing. get the polished New England vibes out of your head. this is a lake in Kansas and that water is something else.), and then grilling tomorrow and blowing up a few small-to-midsized sparkly contraptions. #MURICAAAA

From this week, in case you missed it::: Italian Tuna Salad Lettuce Cups! A bit retro, but still fun and super simple. And then your July mixtape! Crackling Sky and Ice Cream High. Have it as the background to your lil’ get-together this weekend. You’ll digaroo.

Also, I found out my friend Ashlee doesn’t like baked beans. BAKED BEANS. Who doesn’t like baked beans??? And you can’t just eat the beans alone. You must, and I mean must dip a Ruffles chip into them as the vessel. This is non-negotiable.

I’m gonna need some time with this.

(did you get the quote?)