Friday Flotsam

FRRRRRRRRRRerder.

You guys I GOT STUNG BY A BEE.

But, for the very first time in my entire life.

As in, I have managed to escape any and all stings for 44 years of human living on this planet earth. With bugs on it. (minus mosquitoes.)

I was running (said like Forest) two mornings ago and I was the very end of my run, the cool down, right on my street. I passed this brunette woman with a saggy ponytail watering her potted mums on her front porch. She glanced up, a nod and half smile my way. I waved back and was in the middle of saying hi when the ANKLE STING OF DEATH attacked.

I jumped no less than 20 feet straight up. I said (yelled) a choice word. She looked down at her mums. As in instinct I swatted my ankle as if a dragon had just unhinged its jaw upon my leg. I saw it flying away, the little b. I mean bee. I mean b. It HURT.

Matter of fact, if you know me, you know my crippling fear of bugs. I cannot rest if a bug is near. Especially if it’s flying. Or has a stinger. Or claws or fangs or a unibrow. My sister-in-law said to me over Labor Day (because I was having a meltdown on our back patio because a bumble bee was sucking something out of a flower I dunno I hate it all.), she goes, “Have you ever been stung by a bee?” Me, “No! Bite your tongue!” Carolyn said, “Well that’s the problem! You need to be stung. Then you’ll be fine for the rest of your life.”

. . . DO I LOOK FINE TO YOU RIGHT NOW, CAROLYN?

Thing is, since then (because I keep talking about it) it’s done nothing but itched. And has gotten red and splotchy. Aaron put a baking soda mix on it right at first because I was acting like a wounded soldier from WW2. We’ve been putting Hydrowhateverwhatever to calm the itch. It’s still itchy! You know when you get stuck by a rose thorn and that mother itches for months? THAT.

Anyway, I got stung by a bee and I now feel like menopause will be a breeze.

Do you have an address book? Does one even have an address book these days? I can’t remember what an address book even looks like.

I realized the other day that I’ve not had an actual address book since the early ’90s. Aaron said, “We should do a funny holiday card this year.” (we’ve never done a holiday card. not once. we’re not holiday card people. I’d rather be stung by a bee again.) And I looked at the alien in front of me and said, “We can’t. I don’t have an address book.”

Because an address book is what would stop someone from taking a funny photo and showing others. HMMMM WHERE SHOULD I PUT THIS HILARIOUS PHOTO ON MY PHONE?

Also, don’t get excited about a “funny holiday card”. Aaron’s all bark, zero bite.

Besides, I don’t have an address book.

This is who I am, and you can tell me what enneggaeresgvesram this falls into. I’m already visualizing my Thanksgiving meal.

I MEAN WHAT ELSE DO WE HAVE THOUGH?

We decided not to travel this year because of the obvious. Which means we’ll be home, cooking a monstrous meal for just us. And I’m just not going to do that. BUT! – I’m having the most fun in my brain brainstorming a small-batch Thanksgiving meal and what that would look like.

Buttermilk-brined Cornish game hens (adorable and super festive), something green and crunchy but with depth. A tiny creamy casserole of some sort. Fresh rolls. A pie. Doris Day and Gordon MacRae on the TV. Sancerre for days.

Yes I know it’s September, why are you looking at me like that?

POLLLLLLLLLLL-AH!

When you need to correct a typo, do you backspace to the mistake, or do you hover over the word, correct it, and then go back to where you were in your sentence?

I’m a backspacer, all the way. The mistake might be thirty words back, yet I’ll backspace the entire way back to fix it. Somehow that seems quicker to me. Is my engegneegaggram broken?

Weekend plans?

We’re gonna pick a few apples (masked up, no hay ride) with our friends early tomorrow morning at an orchard, then hang here for our annual APPLE DAY. We’ll have apple pie, apple sangria, some salsa verde chicken soup with all the toppings, popcorn, a lil’ cheese plate, natch. However it’s going to be NINETY STUPID DEGREES (we picked a late September date to avoid the warmer temps. See how that worked out for us?), so we may end up setting up the dern sprinkler and busting out a summer tunes mixtape. We’ll be fine. I got stung by a bee so I can do anything now, you know.

From this week, in case you missed it! Crunchy Shrimp and Cabbage Tostadas! Super duper for a game night. And then some Spiced Pork with Coconut Noodles. Simple but unexpected. Change it up, yo.

Also, you saw this Father of the Bride Part 3 (ish) reunion business happening tonight, right? OMGGGGGGGGG. “He’s wonderful, and brilliant, and we’re getting meeeeeeeeeaarried.”

Bye forever.