December 22, 2008 by Marj Hatzell
As in…17 degrees. But that’s quite balmy compared to someplaces. Like Cincinnati (2) and Alaska (0) and THIS place.
So natural, because it is cold and windy and rainy and icy and cold and windy and did I mention cold? We’ve not been venturing out much. In fact, we had all-day fires in the fireplace all weekend. You can do this when you have a wood pile in your backyard that is twenty feet long and eight feet wide and four feet high.
Do you know what else you can do? You can get those marshmallow shooters out for the kids that you bought when you were thinking of cold, winter days (or wet winter days) and let the kids set up forts in the playroom and eat all the marshmallows shoot each other. And when your husband gets a load of them, he can play with them for HOURS, while you steam carpets and bake all day for two days and then fall into a sorry heap when you realize you switched your meds this weekend and that is why you can’t function with a throbbing migraine! OH. And then the husband gets bored of eating marshmallows shooting little kids with marshmallows and decides that he is going to kick it up a notch and make his VERY OWN marshmallow shooter, from information he found! On! The! Internets! And MacGuyer, I mean, my husband, made one out of a used ibuprofen bottle, a toilet paper holder, a cigarette lighter, some thumbtacks and some room spray. I kid you not.
And it works! It shoots marshmallows out about eight feet with a flaming POP and the kids squeal with delight and NO! We aren’t letting the teens down the street anywhere near it, even if they were completely fascinated with it and vowed they’d make their own, since they could google and all that. But it SHOOTS! FLAMING! MARSHMALLOWS! MacGuyver has done it again! No, I mean, he really has done IT again. He decided that the little wimpy marshmallow shooter wasn’t good enough, and while I slaved over the sewing machine making gifts for the husband to take to his staff (sheesh. You make something good and all the sudden you get orders for them and then a fun craft turns into *%$#*) the husband went to the garage with a peanut container, a piece of PVC, a fireplace lighter and some butane and…ended up nearly blowing himself up when the lid popped off of the shooter from the TREMENDOUS pressure and he has a welt and a burn on his potbelly abdomen to prove it. Sheesh.
So naturally he stayed up too late goofing off and did not want to get out of bed this morning (for the record, none of us did. We are all exhausted and still cannot get rid of these *&^%$ing coughs) so I was flying solo trying to get the kids Bug Boy off to school, and he was being super-cooperative (N.O.T.) and I had to go upstairs about thirty times and threaten to quit my day job and never cook again if he did not get out of bed (which, being passive-aggressive, all I really did was conveniently forget to iron his clothes this morning). Which made me distracted getting Bug Boy out of the house on time, which means he didn’t actually eat, which means I gave him the “BEST MOMMY IN THE WORLD” breakfast, sludge instant breakfast. Which he prefers anyway. And then while I ran around gathering the hat, gloves, school bag, etc, I put his three-in-one coat back together (NEVER EVER BUY THAT AGAIN!) because he DETESTS wearing it with all three pieces of it stuck back together, and all I heard was “The sleeves are too thick! The hood is too tight! The zipper bothers my neck! The ____ is too ____! The THIS is too THAT!” and I was all, “SHUT UP AND WEAR IT, IT’S SEVENTEEN DEGREES OUTSIDE, YOU LITTLE SH*T.” But I didn’t say that, I just said, “HERE.” and shoved it on him with a huge HAIRY EYEBALL but I wanted to say the other stuff. Really.
And the good news? I’m here sipping my tea, Bugaboo is still asleep and apparently I posted this and it got screwed up…