Category Archives: Humorous Column

February 2, 2016 · 1:04 am

Five Seconds of Terror…

Within the last week, I was riveted by a television show’s story line. I love those cop-murder-mystery kinds of series and this week, there was an especially gruesome one. It seems a woman got into her car late one night and there was someone in the back seat who promptly slipped a plastic bag over her head and suffocated her.

I tell you this before I tell you my most recent event because it will tell you what my frame of mind was. I have always feared the “killer in the backseat with the knife” scenario and this week, I faced my own nightmare…but don’t worry; as you should already have guessed, I survived!

I was on the road late at night. I had been driving for about 20 miles on some very slippery roads after running some errands in a nearby city. It was icy, I was tense and my hands actually ached from clutching the wheel so tightly. There was no one else to drive, though, so it was up to me to be a big girl and get through.

Just as I was congratulating myself for being so courageous, a light from a car coming up behind me shone in the back of my car and outlined the head of a person, sitting behind me in the back seat. I now know the meaning of the phrase, “heart jumped into my throat,” because mine did.

Almost gagging from fear, I tried to appear cool as I slowly skidded the car over to the side of the road. I thought frantically about what there was in the front seat that I could use as a weapon, but I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to stab anybody to death with the straw in my drink.

My second thought was to slow down enough to throw myself out of the car. I was trying to remember the stories people told about jumping from a moving car and surviving. Was the car going 30 miles an hour? 20? Would I be able to do it without splatting myself on the highway and breaking bones? Even if I could get out, what would I do then? The person in the back seat could just run after me. What to do? What to do?

I was just at the point of emitting  a hair-raising shriek (this is not strategy, it was just panic setting in), when another car came up from behind and I could once again observe the person in the back seat. Except that the person in the back seat was not a person.

My last errand had been at a costume shop where I had secured a large horse costume which was presently residing in the back seat…right behind my seat…sticking up far enough to catch the light of the cars behind me.

My five seconds of terror were over, but now chagrin set in. After turning around and swinging my very heavy purse into every corner of the back seat to make sure the bogus horse was my only passenger, I put the car in gear and continued the nerve-wracking ride home. I did make it home, by the way and without being knifed or suffocated by any backseat murderers.

The thing causing me the chagrin, however, remains. I keep asking myself, what if I had gotten the car slowed down enough and had the nerve to pitch myself out? Even if a passing car didn’t turn me into pavement wax, I was bound to break something. So how would I explain to the emergency personnel assigned to scrape me off the highway that I broke my hip, leg, shoulder,head, etc., jumping out of my car to escape a homicidal horse costume???$_3

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January 18, 2016 · 5:02 pm

Picture not so perfect…

I watched a woman today trying as hard as she could to avoid having her picture taken. Why, you might ask, would she avoid it? She was a nice looking woman, but she didn’t feel properly dressed, her hair wasn’t done the way she wanted, and on and on went her excuses until I was pretty proud of her.

I have played the “please don’t take my picture” game my entire life. I think it stemmed from the day I was five and my mother dressed me in an emerald green dress, combed out my hair and took me to the photographer. I refused to smile, but this was not that photographer’s first rodeo. He said, “You’re so pretty with that red hair and freckles, I’ll bet you have lots of boyfriends. How many are there?” I smiled in a goony fashion and said, “Five.”

I still say I was not confessing to being a kindergarten slut, I was telling him my age, but the story has stuck–along with the goofy expression on my face which he forever immortalized. Ever since then, pictures have become an ordeal.12002417_10100595093730356_8133938329551253802_o

If you relent and allow your picture to be taken, it always comes out with your finger in the vicinity of your nose or your mouth open, revealing an unobstructed view of your tonsils—not your best feature. However, if you refuse to have your picture taken—you are expected to have a reason why not, as in: “You can’t take my picture. Why? Because I’m in the witness protection program and I would be killed if my picture comes out.” “Because I’m sensitive about the skin disease I have that whenever my picture is taken, dirty words appear in my rash.” “Because if you take my picture when I said no, I’m going to stick that camera in a convenient place.” You name the excuse for not having a picture taken, I’ve used it.

I used to think it had to do with looks, but since I was never model-beautiful, I can’t imagine that I would be that vain. I think it has more to do with privacy. I object to being assaulted at any random moment. I have seen pictures of myself with my mouth wide open, about to devour a hamburger. I have seen myself, with my “best side up” about to pick something up from the floor. I’ve seen pictures where my hair ran a close second for worst style against Nick Nolte’s arrest photo. I simply do not take pictures well and they are the kind of memories I’d rather not save!

I truly think there should be a law about pictures. Everybody with a smartphone today can snap a picture, but what if we listed cameras of any kind as weapons? When we take large group pictures, that would make the phones or cameras weapons of mass destruction. Someone takes my picture in some unflattering moment…pretty much any moment would qualify…and I could have them arrested for assault with intent to display!

I’ve heard that computers are now equipped with cameras which could be hacked. That means the camera could get me walking into the kitchen with my night hair and ragged nightie. Or worse still, coming out of the shower wrapped in a towel which doesn’t have the yardage to cover the important stuff. This thought has given me nightmares and caused me  to regard my computer with hostility and suspicion.

I know that camera control  will never happen and I’ll spend the rest of my life hiding behind some convenient (but never big enough) fellow picture subject, when the cameras come out. I’ll try to bear it by thinking of it as a nice, benevolent execution—they line you up on the wall and shoot you. But, instead of it being all over when they are done shooting, you have the even worse ordeal of having to look at the picture…forever…in the most inconvenient of places. Smile, everyone, we’re on Candid Camera!

 

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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January 11, 2016 · 3:50 pm

The Cleaning Cliché

New Year’s Resolution number one this year for me was to keep my house cleaner. I figured this would be easier to keep than losing weight and at least my husband might get some benefit if the house was cleaner.

I really mean to keep this resolution, but I haven’t been able to resist looking for some shortcuts that would help with the cleaning. I have done more research on these shortcuts than I have spent time cleaning house since January 1, and I must confess, the shortcuts I have tried have not turned out that well.

Let’s take the smell issue. I read that your house will appear cleaner if you have a pleasant smell, such as a scented candle can give you.20160111_092630 I invested in a great many scented candles and lit them throughout the house. Then I sat down to read my Facebook and found a charming article on how unhealthy scented candles are! Add to that the fact that my husband couldn’t tell me how great the house looked because he was too busy sneezing from the candles! Exit a lot of scented candles!

I still went with the smell theory, however. Rooms like the bathroom will have a cleaner appearance if you pour just a small amount of cleaning fluid in the corner…preferably by the toilet. I used bleach, which watered my eyes and ruined the paint on the wall where it splashed. As for the other suggestion..that baking cookies enhance the look of a house by presenting a beautiful smell? I burned the cookies. The house looks a lot less clean through a haze of smoke and an acrid smell!

Your house will be cleaner, they say, if you spend 15 minutes every day picking up. People with children or pets know that this is a joke. While you are picking up for your 15 minutes, they are making messes which will take hours to undo. When they get old enough to help, children will find their own way of using the cleaning time and as for pets…well, they never quite get the hang of sweeping a floor and they leave enough fur to open their own coat factory!

Always keep a mat in your bathtub, the experts advise. That way, you can pour cleaners in the tub and it will, again, smell better and when the mat gets too bad, you can simply remove the mat and put in a new one. If only the same could be said for the toilet! And as for the soap scum on the shower walls, even a squeegee application after each shower (which is recommended) does not keep those walls from looking as though there is a permanent fog in there!

I know that there are ways in which I could keep my resolution for a cleaner house. One of those involves dynamite and a pay loader. The other involves hiring a cleaner. And I’m not sure after the cleaner took one look at the place, that she/he wouldn’t recommend the payloader and the dynamite. Good luck with your New Year’s resolutions…and your cleaning!

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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January 1, 2016 · 10:18 pm

The Annual Christmas Clinic

 

Roy is coming down with a doozie of a cold. He gets at least one a year, but this one is directly related to the holidays. Now, before you jump to the conclusion that he has this illness because of too much holiday partying, let me assure you, it has nothing to do with that!

Every year, we start out like any other family, hoping for a Christmas with meaningful Christmas church experiences, just the right gifts, way too much food and maybe, just for fun, a good old fashioned family fight to spice things up. That’s not too much to hope for, is it? That is not what happens at our house.

It seems like when the Christmas holiday approaches, Moses must intercede with God and ask for a reenactment of the seven plagues of Egypt, using our family as an example! We may not get rivers of blood or a swarm of locusts and thank goodness, we don’t do the whole death of a first born, but we do seem to be getting hit with more than our share of bugs!

It generally starts with Royce, my older grandchild. He goes out looking for an interesting bug for which, after he has displayed the symptoms, he is taken to the hospital and properly drugged for his efforts. In the beginning he kept these germs to himself and one memorable Christmas Eve, he ended up in urgent care for his fever.

His techniques have expanded since then, however, because he has now learned to share and that’s just what he does with his germs. He turns to his brother, mother or father and sometimes his aunt and uncle and says, “Here, you can have some of my germs.”

As a result, we have literally held present openings with someone lying on the floor by the tree with a high fever and eaten a supposedly delicious Christmas dinner with someone retching into a toilet just down the hall.

It takes its toll on the family and always, always, always, just as we think everyone is over the hump (so to speak) Roy manages to come down with the disease…whatever it is!

I never pick up these bugs (knocking on wood there), but I had my own “year of illness” a couple of years back when I developed an intestinal infection right before the holidays. By the time Christmas arrived, I had been diagnosed and treated, but it meant I was sipping “delicious” chicken broth a spoonful at a time while everyone passed the turkey, mashed potatoes, cheesy green beans, etc. past my nose and consumed it before my eyes.

If the disease is contagious, however, the cramped quarters of a family gathered for the holidays makes it inevitable that as many people as possible will take their turn at the holiday altar of germs. This year was no different than usual, with a miserable cold, sore throat, general punk taking hold of as many as possible and ending with Roy.

So, I’m not asking for gifts next Christmas, as much as I like to get them. Next Christmas, I’m going to plan for the holidays with as many immune-building vitamins and over –the – counter aids that I can find and pass them out to all my family while I fervently beg the Almighty to make it possible that no one needs antibiotics, anti-nausea pills or even an aspirin and we truly have a healthy, Merry Christmas!

Hope all of you had a healthy and a happy Christmas this fine holiday season!

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2016. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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December 21, 2015 · 3:34 pm

Random wandering through random thoughts

 

I love all the Christmas movies, don’t you? I watch A Christmas Carol (all 50 versions) and Miracle on 34th Street (I like the Maureen O’Hara, Natalie Wood one best), along with It’s a Wonderful Life and even Christmas Vacation. White Christmas is another favorite, along with Holiday Inn.white_christmas_header__span

At least one weekend a year I load them all up and watch them in one giant, Christmas pig-out. Unfortunately, however, I come up with some of the same random questions every year.

For instance, why does Scrooge’s nephew keep putting up with his uncle? If you ask me, it’s almost harder to believe that Fred (the nephew) never told old Scrooge to stick it up his humbug than it is to believe that anyone could be as bad as Scrooge. And then, when Scrooge shows up at Fred’s house after his miraculous transformation, Fred just invites him in; doesn’t ask for a blood test or a detox certificate—just lets him in the door. If you ask me, Fred’s got some issues.

And, speaking of movies and certifiable characters, let’s take the case of Kris Kringle in Miracle on 34th Street. I’ve never understood exactly what they were trying to prove in the trial held in that movie. Were they trying to prove that Santa Claus was sane or that Kris was sane or that Kris was Santa Claus…and sane? Whichever it is, I ask them to remember that you can’t prove a guy is sane AND prove that he is Santa Claus…that would mean you should be locked up yourself! And as for those lazy louts at the post office, how long do you leave the dead letter room collecting mail before you clean it? It could be that this may explain why our post is slow sometimes!

This brings me to Christmas Vacation. No one wants a nice family Christmas more than me, but I am unwilling to do it at the expense of my sanity. This man endured cat food in the Jello, a dog hacking up under the holiday table, a cigar-smoking old man who set his toupee and the tree on fire and a completely clueless relative without the brains to recognize overt hostility. We’re lucky we didn’t witness a complete meltdown, instead of just a guy sitting in the attic wearing his mother’s dress wraps and weeping over old movies….wait a minute, maybe that was it!

My biggest problem of all, however, comes when I take up the issue of Mr. Potter in It’s a Wonderful Life. This Harry Potter (I’ve always been fascinated by the fact that his name was Henry F. Potter), was not like the lovable English wizard. Henry F. Potter was unsympathetic, vindictive and he did not care about the common muggle…I mean, man. I could live with that, but I can’t live with the fact that he stole 8,000 dollars from that twit, Uncle Billy and then was never brought to justice. How is this right? Shouldn’t a film that ends with everyone standing around, throwing money on the table and singing Auld Lang Syne, also deal out proper justice to a thief?article-2528752-1A46AE3700000578-236_634x396

I’ve often thought there should have been a sequel to this movie: Potter Gets His. George will wake up the morning after the Christmas party with a slight hangover from Mr. Martini’s wine (ironic name there, by the way); he will squeeze the location of the lost money out of Uncle Billy and then he will stomp down to Potter’s office, drag him out of that wheelchair and beat him with his own hard heart.

Okay, I have to get busy making some Christmas candy and banana bread, so I’m going to leave this useless rambling alone, as it gets me nowhere. But as I stir the fudge, I know I’m going to be asking that question that’s on everyone’s mind: how DID they get all those former soldiers up to Pine Tree, Vermont, squeezed into their old Army uniforms, just so a retired general could get snow on his ski slopes? Never mind, I’ll figure it out for myself! Have a merry Christmas.

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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December 14, 2015 · 5:10 pm

Whistle while you work

I’m not one of those people who happily makes a list of their chores and then cheerfully sets about getting them done. I’m much more the “procrastinate as long as possible and then whine while you work” type.

I was thinking about this while I was out shoveling the latest offerings of snow off the driveway, bemoaning the fact that I’d rather be sipping a little tea with my feet up, when I heard someone singing. It was one of my younger neighbors, out shoveling her walks and singing as she went.

Now, I’m not entirely sure that the song was about how happy she was to be shoveling her afternoon away, but she was definitely spreading some music as she cleared the walks.images (5)

I felt somewhat bad. Perhaps I should be a little more cheerful when I’m out shoveling. After all, I can actually shovel and for some people that is an impossibility. It’s unlikely, however, that I’m going to croon “Winter Wonderland” while I am wielding the shovel. I’ll just get it done and get to my tea.

Other chores, however, are just as bad. What song could I possibly sing while cleaning my toilets, for instance? “Flushed from the Bathroom of my Heart” doesn’t really do it and then there’s always the danger that I’ll automatically try to sing into the toilet brush. That could only end in grief.

It may come as no surprise that I also don’t hum a tune when I mop floors, fold laundry or do the dishes. I’m just a grumpy soul when it comes to work. And as a due warning, I should admit that I am not only not singing, I may be dangerous to approach.

My husband came home from work one evening as I was folding the last of a day’s worth of laundry.laundry_pile1.jpg

“So, how was your day? Doing a little laundry?” he sometimes makes the mistake of thinking I’ll be civil while I’m working.

“No, I just thought it would be fun to pull all of the socks out of the drawer and mismatch them,” I snarled, cramming some undershorts into a drawer.

“Well, that’s nice,” he has finally caught up with the game. “However, you should know that you are shoving your underpants into my t-shirt drawer. You might not find them there when you need them.” And he strolled out of the room, whistling a little bit of “I’ve Got You Under my Skin.”

It was probably the following morning when he discovered that I had rolled up two of his dress shirts and stuffed them in his shoes. Whistle while you’re working at that!

I’m going to work on my attitude about doing chores around the house. It’s just possible that that young girl singing while she shoveled has got me feeling a little guilty about my grouchy airs. It’s going to take a while, however, before I’m whistling while I work. In the meantime things like laundry and shoveling will simply have to be done in brooding silence.

 

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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December 7, 2015 · 2:58 pm

Bringing up Josie

She was a cute and pudgy little puppy, rolling around in the grass with her brothers and sisters. When we picked her, we were sure we were getting a mild and easy to manage dog.

We brought her home, named her Josie and prepared to enjoy our puppy. And she was sweet and mild and calm….for about four days. That’s when it finally hit home that she wasn’t so calm and mild.

She desperately  wanted to sleep on the furniture, so we bought her a bed. She promptly ate the bed and continued to climb on to the furniture. She ate a pair of my glasses…well, she didn’t really eat them, she just chewed on them until I couldn’t wear them. Explaining that mangled mess to the eye doctor was fun!

She loves paper most of all..anything from toilet paper to books. So far she has eaten the address book, my Nancy Drew collection, a Christmas present for my daughter, the password book, two books of check-blanks and so many napkins, paper towels and random papers I have lost track.12247164_983928861645544_8685450468341935516_n

The house looks like the aftermath of a hurricane all the time and the only glass items that have been broken are the family heirlooms I didn’t have the foresight to put away. I have stripped the house of all the things I think she might go after, but it is true that I have less plastic canvas, balls of yarn and shoe strings.

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Hurricane Josie!

Magazines are a favorite for Josie to take apart, she especially devours the Popular Mechanics and Sports Illustrated papers. She positively devoured a travel book on New York and has consumed a great many of my crossword puzzle books, that I always thought I’d never finish!

My beautiful old Christmas cactus, to large and fussy to be moved from its southern exposure, has taken a particular beating from her. No matter how often I shouted at her, she could never resist the urge to bite at the leaves and it was looking pretty sad. Now, I have chair all around it and while it looks like it’s in jail, it at least is making a recovery.

We were selective in what we put out for Christmas decorations, knowing she would be a factor. I put up the old Christmas tree instead of buying a new one as I had intended. I used all cheap, glittery plastic bulbs, so she couldn’t ruin my good stuff. The tree is unplugged half the time because apparently Josie doesn’t think lights are necessary and the bottom third has been relieved of its bulbs while Josie walks around with a permanent glitter mouth.

I truly believe that Josie will grow up and get better. This is what has kept her alive through bouts of jumping on the cupboards to help herself and growling matches with the cat. I look forward to the days when I don’t have to see her wandering into the living room with a butter paper hanging out of her mouth and my good lint roller stuck to her foot.

Until then, I’m just trying to survive “Hurricane Josie” and hoping that all the glossy magazines she is consuming don’t cause us an even more unpleasant reaction!

 

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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November 30, 2015 · 4:50 pm

A Simple Walk in the Park…Dark.

It was going to be so simple. I was going to be the good wife and get the dog’s walk out of the way. Roy has been working some late nights, so I have been coming home early enough to get the dog’s walk in before it is too dark. Simple, right? Well, you’d think so.

Tonight, I was finally too late for a pleasant stroll in the daylight. But I knew that to leave that wild, rambunctious dog with no exercise would just lead to grief…and random chewed up items around the house. So, I got out the walking in the dark supplies and let the dog out of her room.

Before we left for the walk in the dark, I needed to take care of myself – bathroom, snack, etc., so I let the dog outside to take care of her peeing issues while I got ready. I also had to change the batteries on the flashlight, since, when I turned it on, I couldn’t even see to the end of the hall because the beam was so weak.

Having taken care of that, I picked up the lighted-up collar that flashes in the dark and went to put it on Josie. She misunderstood when I opened the door and rushed into the room. She saw the flashing collar and knew a walk was in store. That’s when I found out she had not gone downstairs to pee. Instead, in her excitement, she peed all over my floor.

After a quick mop job, I tried to put the collar on the dog. She wanted to go for the walk, but she didn’t realize that she had to stand still for me to get the collar on. The struggle to get her collar on went from inside the house to outside. I tried to get the collar on and clipped, but it kept slipping through my fingers as she tossed her head and wiggled about. In the end, I laid on her on the porch step and cursing and swearing, finally managed to get the thing clipped on and the lights on.

She tore off down the steps and I followed more slowly, flashing my flashlight around, praying I didn’t run into a skunk or something. The dog joyfully flew about, looking like a fast moving Christmas tree and the lights were the only thing that kept her in my view.DSCN2296.JPG

I walked quickly in the dark, flashing my light from side to side, trying not to think what might be out there, just beyond my beam. The dog had no such qualms, her light trail could be seen moving from side to side, stopping just long enough for me to get close.

Then it happened: She disappeared. No matter where I looked, I could not see her. All I could do was keep walking along and looking. All at once, there was a set of beady little eyes, there in the dark, not moving, engaged in a stare down with me. I knew it was a skunk; my worst fears realized!

I began to slowly back up, when suddenly, the “skunk” relaxed its shoulders and the lights around the neck reappeared. It was the dog, who had covered her own collar as she took care of her bathroom business.

Normally, we walk a little farther, but tonight, that was enough for me. I took my pseudo-skunk decorated with Christmas lights and went back home. That’s all the walking in the dark I plan to do for a while…but the dog may have different ideas. We’ll see who wins!

 

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November 23, 2015 · 2:56 pm

Creating a talking list

Okay, I admit it, I’m one of those people who probably overshares on Facebook. It is just such an easy way to instantaneously visit with large groups of people. But I’m also aware that there are some things which should not be discussed on Facebook. So, since all the other people have their “taboo subject” lists, I’ll make one too.

When I’m on Facebook, I don’t really want my religion challenged. I’m fairly certain God is not putting those challenges on about “if you believe in God, you’ll re-post this…if you don’t repost it, something bad will happen.” I don’t really think God is sitting up there in heaven, waiting to strike if I don’t share the proper thing on Facebook. While we’re at it, don’t talk to me about one religion (Christian or otherwise) pitted against another. Pretty much every religion under the sun has heroes and if we took a shovel and dug a little we’d find things we don’t like. Tell me when you’re having a fundraiser bake sale, etc. and I’ll be there, but no ideology, please.unnamed

No politics on Facebook. I won’t convince you and you won’t convince me, so all those political rants are a waste of time. I like to hear about successful programs and ways in which I can help, but the evils of the political parties are lost on me.

I’m also a little squeamish about discussions of sex lives. I don’t frequently read about someone’s activities in the area of amour, but when I do, I always wish I hadn’t read it! I don’t mind hearing about weddings and engagements and anniversaries, in fact, I like those. I even love all the pictures and posts about babies, I just don’t want to hear any creation details!

The next thing on my list is going to sound weird, but I don’t want to hear about farts on Facebook. Apparently, it is now all the rage to create little clever sayings about farts, but those always make me flinch. I have as many bodily functions as the next person, I don’t need any cute little sayings to remind me of how uncomfortable it is!

And then there’s liver. The subject of liver is always unacceptable to me. I don’t like liver and I don’t want to discuss its health benefits or anything else. I am also not very fond of almonds, so if I didn’t have to talk about them, I’d be happy.

Then, there is the color purple, especially as it appears on the backs of the Vikings. Okay, what I really don’t want to discuss if football—Vikings specific. The every Sunday scream fest at my house when the Vikings are winning or losing (the screaming is the same, either way) is enough. I don’t want to discuss it on Facebook.

Other things I don’t want to talk about: guns (I can’t shoot), jeans (I can’t wear them) recipes (I can’t cook), and music because I can’t play or sing. In fact, I think everyone should just clear everything they want to talk about with me before they post it on Facebook.

What do you mean, we have freedom of speech? If I don’t like what someone says or how they say it, they shouldn’t have the right to talk about it, right? Oh dear, I think I may have gotten something wrong here….but still, if you would, just don’t talk to me about liver, alright? Anything but liver. Is it a deal?

 

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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November 16, 2015 · 3:41 pm

Dinner at 8…or got ate, or something

When it comes to meal time at my house, Roy and I have somewhat differing views on the subject. If it was up to me, we’d eat every meal out…but of course, I don’t usually pay for them. If it was up to Roy, we’d eat every meal in…but of course, he doesn’t usually cook them.

So, we nightly perform a little dance we like to call the “what are we going to do about dinner?” He can come up with a ton of excuses for why we should eat in and I can come up with an equal number of excuses for why we should eat out.

First, it’s a waiting game. Roy waits until the last possible hope he has of me cooking before he says, “Uh, what’s for supper?”

I, on my side, have been waiting as long as I can for him to offer to take me out. “Well, I don’t know, perhaps I could defrost something and we could eat in a couple of hours.” I’m counting on him being too hungry to want to do that.20151116_093656

“Well, okay. Maybe I’ll have a piece of jelly bread while I’m waiting,” he’s affable and agreeable if he thinks I may fix something.

“There’s no jelly and no bread,” I snarl, “and if we don’t go out to eat, you’re getting oatmeal and not with a smile.”

Then, there are all the holidays I can come up with for going out to celebrate.

“It’s Restaurant Appreciation Day,” I announce as we both come in the door after work.

“What’s that?” he’s suspicious immediately.

“That’s where you are supposed to show how much you appreciate your favorite restaurant by going to it to eat,” I reply hopefully.

“And which restaurant is your favorite,” he asks, but he already knows the answer.

“Oh, I’m not fussy, I like them all. You pick one,” I am so delighted I may get to go out.

“I really like Fauth’s Kitchen, that’s my favorite,” he answers craftily.

“I wouldn’t eat there if I was you,” I say between my teeth, “because the cook there is very likely to spit in your food.” So much for being subtle!

I’ve tried everything. I told Roy one night we had to eat out because I had sprained my wrist and couldn’t handle the pans. He very obligingly came out and moved the pans for me every time they needed it.

Another time, I told him that I was just too tired to cook right then. He generously volunteered to take the phone off the hook so I could have a nap before I cooked dinner. He said he would have some jelly bread to tide him over.

Then there was the time I told him it was “National Give your Kitchen a Rest Day.” He fired up the grill for me.

Tonight, I tried a new tactic. “Honey, I spent so much time washing and ironing your shirts so that you will be ready for work, that I just didn’t get anything started for supper. I don’t know how soon I could get a meal going and I’m sure you’re starving.”

“I’ll get something out of the freezer for you,” he answered calmly. “You can get out the bread and jelly for me.”

© Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In the Well, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Jackie Wells-Fauth and Drops In The Well with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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