Friday Flotsam

Frrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrewlewbewhew.

Okay FIRST: this book. Mad Honey. I’m nearing page 200 and completely swallowed. I will say, I have yet to get to any twists, which SO many of you have excitedly prepared me. I’m trying to imagine what that would even look like. But it’s great. And frustrating. I mean I believe him! I’m I an idiot? I totally believe him.

Yeah, so far I’m Team Asher. Why are you looking at me that way?

Also I have a very important question for you. When you go in for a hug with someone, what do you do with your feet? I’ve always had the issue of ramming my feet into the other person’s feet or stepping on the other person’s feet and immediately, “oh sorry about that.” Always. But in the lead up to the hug I’m not actually thinking about where my feet go or what to do with them. I’m concentrating on the impending hug. How tall the person is. How short they are. Is it a waist hug? An arm hug? Do you lean in? Is it a side, a full, a gentle pat? I never think about the feet until POST hug, once I’ve massacred the other’s tootsies and turned the entire exchange into a crime scene.

UNTIL TWO DAYS AGO. I was dropping the kids off at my friend Mindy’s after our pool date for an extended playdate. And she came in to hug me and she moved her FEET TO EITHER SIDE OF MY BODY and I thought, “Oh thiiiiiiiis is how it goes!” Unless they I move my feet to the sides too, then we just have some cranky janky ballet moves on our hands. How she knew my feet would stay in the middle while hers went to the side is some wizardry that I’ll never understand.

And of course I didn’t vocalize it to Mindy in that moment of the hug. What do you take me for, a complete and total socially awkward weirdo???

oh.

I have a story to share, but it’s 100% a had-to-be-there situation, because anytime I tell it to friends they sort of just look back at me like, “Ha ha. . . ha. . . yeah I’m sure that was . . . so crazy.”

But I’m telling you anyway.

Whilst in Little Rock, my sister Barbara decided we needed to go to the grocery store less than a mile from their house (it’s Kroger down there), to prep for a little low-key dinner party we were hosting the next night. So we get our shopping done (under the influence of one glass of wine, 107 degree weather, 77 thousand percent humidity and lots of giggling.) and head back to her car to load up. I’m holding the bags while she beeps the trunk to being its slow yawn. I’m standing like, right there. Right there at the trunk when what appears before me are 14 DEAD DEER HEADS WITH ANTLERS looking at me. And BIRDS. Like, so many giant expanded WINGS. Just right there. I have no idea what alternate universe I have landed in but this is NOT my sister’s car. Whose car is this?? Didn’t we drive this car here?? We drove this car here, didn’t we? Am I having a stroke? Is it the heat? Is it that glass of wine? What is happening? Why am I looking at dead animals?

So of course I scream. I scream bloody freaking murder, which makes Barbara scream. And we’re just standing there screaming like lunatics in the Kroger parking lot while people walk past us trying to figure how we didn’t know that was in the car WE DROVE THERE.

I stumble back, trying to get away from these animals that might be alive? Are they alive? Are those birds flying? And I scream, “WHAT IS THAAAAAAT!”

Barbara screams back at me, “TAXIDERMY!”

Me, “BUT WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!”

And then I start laughing so uncontrollably that I don’t know if I’ve peed my pants (just a little) while she collects herself. Like I am doubled over in the middle of the Kroger parking lot while the grocery bags are now on the ground (did anything break? because I think I dropped the bags), and she goes white.

(Okay side note: she’s a realtor, and was in the midst of an unexpected trickle effect of a bankruptcy in California which affected a sale in Texas which hung a sale in Arkansas.)

So as I’m trying to figure out what universe I’m in, whose car this is, why there are dead animals in this car, she goes, “Oh no. I was supposed to take these out for my client. They can’t be in the heat like this.”

(we won’t talk about how many days they’d been in there.)

(Also side note: he knows this story already. He does NOT know this blog, so no one tell him I’m telling you, okay?)

As I’m still processing what is actually happening and if I need to change my shorts, I notice a box of plants behind the birds. PLANTS. Noooooot looking so hot. I go, “You were supposed to take those out too, weren’t you?” She gave me a sideways glance with the widest eyes I’ve ever seen.

“BEV.”

OMG.

OMG, YOU GUYS.

I’ve never laughed so hard or felt so crazy or confused so many bystanders at our hysterics in the middle of a Kroger parking lot. We rushed home, got the food inside. Got the plants inside. Got the DEER HEADS and the WILD BIRDS inside. It was absolute chaos I cried laughing the entire time and I’m still laughing today.

The end.

While we’re at it, here’s another had-to-be-there story for you! Talk about your lucky day.

The other afternoon we were taking our dog for a walk, when Natalie found this cicada like, birthing itself (sorry, Mindy) out of its horrific little shell. She was dead SET on taking it home and letting it finish birthing (ugh) at our house. To which I was severely grossed out by, but was going to let her. Outside, that is. We kept walking for a bit and then stumbled upon some neighborhood steps that I traditionally photograph the kids on each summer. Realizing that I had yet to do so this year, we stopped for the opportunity. (I have yet to post to IG. I keep forgetting!) So the kids got in their places as I pulled up the photo from last year to make sure we recreated it the same way. They were in the wrong spots, so I was like, “Oh, switch places! We’ll make this fast.” So they did.

We took the photos. They were cute. All is well. We stood up to leave and continue our walk when Nat realized she needed to grab Sammy. Because of COURSE she not only named the thing but somehow emotionally attached herself to the wiggly green caged critter of death within a span of two and half minutes. This is Natalie we’re talking about.

She went to grab Sammy when – uh oh. During the placement switcheroo, Will unknowingly and accidentally planted his sandal right down on top of Sammy. Like, flattened, you guys. WITH A SHOE PRINT ON IT.

There was a shriek, “Wiiiiiiiiiiillllll!!!!!!! You killed him!!!!!” And many tears. And I tried so hard not to laugh. So, so hard. I semi-successfully kept it all in, but I’ll never ever forget walking home and looking back to see her holding onto this smashed cicada, still in its shell, dangling from her fingers and wagging back and forth jankily while she sobbed all the way home. What a sight. Is this considered a good childhood? (don’t answer that)

Sammy is now buried in our front yard. Of course he is. There’s a tombstone and everything.

I have photo and video of this. I’ll post it to Stories this weekend, if you’re emotionally up for it.

Okay, our street is having a block party tonight (if it doesn’t rain) and I’ve narrowed down my dip contribution. And I need your input.

The two contenders are: buffalo chicken dip (always a crowd favorite) or a Greek feta and tomato salad thingy with baguette. Lighter, a little different.

What do we think? Classic or summery? I mean if it doesn’t rain, that is.

Weekend plans?

We have a pool date today, a birthday to celebrate among the little girl gaggle, a block party on my street, another run in the morning, lots of Mad Honey reading and nothing on Sunday. Divine.

From this week::: Crispy Chicken Wraps with Ranch! So much texture, so summery. And the video! And then we have Creamy Lemon Spaghetti with Pancetta. Luscious and summer perfection. And the video!

Today was a lot for you, I know. That’s a bit much to process. Take all the time you need.