(no subject)
I had the most lovely late afternoon into evening.
Justin came home, tired but in a good mood. He promptly kicked off his shoes and socks and climbed onto the couch with me. As soon as he did this my nostrils were assaulted by the most foul, foot odor imaginable.
I immediately complained loudly and asked that instead of rubbing those gross feet on the couch and stinking it up too that he instead go stand in the tub and run some nice hot water onto them, serving a dual goal of both cleaning and warming his feet.
He only rolled his eyes a little, hopped up and pranced to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder for me to join him.
Even though I'd just showered a mere half hour before he got home I decided to be a good sport and join him, plus the thought of once again warming my feet sounded really nice to me.
Since I was only clad in my robe I just slithered out of it and stepping into the filling tub. He followed my lead and soon was sky-clad as well... or popcorn-ceiling-clad... or something.
We ended up trying something we'd talked about but hadn't yet done, we both wedged our fat asses into the tub. We fit much better than I thought we would and it was actually pretty comfy.
Callie (our calico cat) came in and sat on the floor next to the tub with her front feet on it's edge. She's obsessed with people taking showers and she had such a good tub-side view that she couldn't believe her good luck.
She took part in our conversations and squinted her eyes happily when we laughed. She eventually climbed onto the tub's edge, patted at me and with a little coaxing she climbed onto my chest and settled down, swishing her fluffy tail through the water occassionaly.
After an hour of dipping a large bowl into the water and pouring it over each others shoulders and backs we decided that it was time to get dried and dressed and seek out food.
We got a record breaking snow storm here in the Ozarks this week and had spent many days snuggled up inside our house, looking out the big double window in the living room at the nearly two foot deep snow drifts. The temperature, night before last dipped down to -20 in some places, including my Mother's house. Yes, that's "20 below zero".
This former Texas gal isn't used to this kind of stuff and likely never will be but it's endlessly beautiful to me.
I stayed up til dawn on the night the storm came in, monitoring it's progress online then watching it as it robbed the landscape of all definition - curbs blending into roadways, steps and porches melting into yards and parking lots, all becoming one large, rolling, feminine surface.
I can handle the cold and the snow but the icy roads inflict upon me worry that turns to anxiety that turns to blue panic. Despite that I felt tonight that I just couldn't take isolation anymore. I'd watched other vehicles pass by on our hilly steep road and decided that I was sick of nesting and cooking and it was time to venture out.
Justin is always brave when it comes to ice driving and is rarely ruffled by it's possible dangers so he was game.
I'd been dreaming of ribs all day, tender, greasy, dry rubbed, slow cooked, falling off the bone RIBS. So, I decided that the place to go would be Golden Corral, forggetting how trashy, dirty and poorly run it is.
The food was blah, they were out of ribs, the joint was smokey from the over-worked grill and filled to over-flowing with the lower middle class, the old and the trashy.
I'm not sure which group I fit into (maybe all) but we all had one thing in common, we were all thrilled to be out of our homes for the first time in days and the atmosphere was one of relief and gratitude.
I was eventually satiated after a medium/well steak, some brussle sprouts, a big cheese biscuit and numerous glasses of iced tea.
As is usually the case when we go to a buffet, Justin ate so much that he became "food drunk". He's the only person I know who gets like this but he gets very loopy, a little loud and well... very very drunk.
It's usually pretty amusing but I worried a little tonight because there was no way I was going to drive us on the frozen roads and I was unsure of his ability to walk a straight line, much less drive one.
Long story trimmed up a bit, we made it home safely, although I kept my hands over my eyes during most of it. We made an absurd video and put it on You Tube and that was pretty much it.
The rest of the evening I've felt warm, cozy, well-fed and much loved... as it should be.
Justin came home, tired but in a good mood. He promptly kicked off his shoes and socks and climbed onto the couch with me. As soon as he did this my nostrils were assaulted by the most foul, foot odor imaginable.
I immediately complained loudly and asked that instead of rubbing those gross feet on the couch and stinking it up too that he instead go stand in the tub and run some nice hot water onto them, serving a dual goal of both cleaning and warming his feet.
He only rolled his eyes a little, hopped up and pranced to the bathroom, calling over his shoulder for me to join him.
Even though I'd just showered a mere half hour before he got home I decided to be a good sport and join him, plus the thought of once again warming my feet sounded really nice to me.
Since I was only clad in my robe I just slithered out of it and stepping into the filling tub. He followed my lead and soon was sky-clad as well... or popcorn-ceiling-clad... or something.
We ended up trying something we'd talked about but hadn't yet done, we both wedged our fat asses into the tub. We fit much better than I thought we would and it was actually pretty comfy.
Callie (our calico cat) came in and sat on the floor next to the tub with her front feet on it's edge. She's obsessed with people taking showers and she had such a good tub-side view that she couldn't believe her good luck.
She took part in our conversations and squinted her eyes happily when we laughed. She eventually climbed onto the tub's edge, patted at me and with a little coaxing she climbed onto my chest and settled down, swishing her fluffy tail through the water occassionaly.
After an hour of dipping a large bowl into the water and pouring it over each others shoulders and backs we decided that it was time to get dried and dressed and seek out food.
We got a record breaking snow storm here in the Ozarks this week and had spent many days snuggled up inside our house, looking out the big double window in the living room at the nearly two foot deep snow drifts. The temperature, night before last dipped down to -20 in some places, including my Mother's house. Yes, that's "20 below zero".
This former Texas gal isn't used to this kind of stuff and likely never will be but it's endlessly beautiful to me.
I stayed up til dawn on the night the storm came in, monitoring it's progress online then watching it as it robbed the landscape of all definition - curbs blending into roadways, steps and porches melting into yards and parking lots, all becoming one large, rolling, feminine surface.
I can handle the cold and the snow but the icy roads inflict upon me worry that turns to anxiety that turns to blue panic. Despite that I felt tonight that I just couldn't take isolation anymore. I'd watched other vehicles pass by on our hilly steep road and decided that I was sick of nesting and cooking and it was time to venture out.
Justin is always brave when it comes to ice driving and is rarely ruffled by it's possible dangers so he was game.
I'd been dreaming of ribs all day, tender, greasy, dry rubbed, slow cooked, falling off the bone RIBS. So, I decided that the place to go would be Golden Corral, forggetting how trashy, dirty and poorly run it is.
The food was blah, they were out of ribs, the joint was smokey from the over-worked grill and filled to over-flowing with the lower middle class, the old and the trashy.
I'm not sure which group I fit into (maybe all) but we all had one thing in common, we were all thrilled to be out of our homes for the first time in days and the atmosphere was one of relief and gratitude.
I was eventually satiated after a medium/well steak, some brussle sprouts, a big cheese biscuit and numerous glasses of iced tea.
As is usually the case when we go to a buffet, Justin ate so much that he became "food drunk". He's the only person I know who gets like this but he gets very loopy, a little loud and well... very very drunk.
It's usually pretty amusing but I worried a little tonight because there was no way I was going to drive us on the frozen roads and I was unsure of his ability to walk a straight line, much less drive one.
Long story trimmed up a bit, we made it home safely, although I kept my hands over my eyes during most of it. We made an absurd video and put it on You Tube and that was pretty much it.
The rest of the evening I've felt warm, cozy, well-fed and much loved... as it should be.