The kids are at the corn maze. Even though I said they couldn't go on a school night. What a pushover I am sometimes. So it's me, and the dogs.
Quiet. Lots of candles and pumpkins, but no trick-or-treaters, except a few friends. Our street is too dark. And no sidewalks. So I'm eating the candy.
I've never liked Halloween. Even though I'm a Stephen King and scary movie fan, Halloween has never been my idea of fun. The kids like to dress up. Kenny is a red M&M tonight. Kate is one of Charlie's Angels, with black boots, her brother's air-soft gun and lots of black eyeliner. For the party last Saturday, she temp-dyed her hair black. Whoa....that was very disconcerting. Zach didn't dress up, although he and Presley's brother were going to go as Batman and Robin, but we couldn't find costumes. Unless we wanted to pay $60 online. And I promised him a bunny suit for Easter, so we're not spending a fortune on Halloween. So there!
By the way....is anyone else out there alarmed at the Halloween costumes for girls??? Talk about trashy! Since when did six-year-olds need French maid costumes with stiletto heels????
Guess what I did last night? Well, I was making this gelatin goo stuff for my toddler class. It requires boiling water followed by stirring and refrigeration. Usually well within my culinary repertoire.
Except for yesterday.
Take a look at this:
It's my 3 quart pan. Belgique. A wedding present. A beautiful pan. Notice the little tag on the edge? That little blob of silver? Well, look closer:
See the molten piece? I had to get that out of the burner this morning. Because last night...well, it was RED HOT. I tried to poke it with a chop stick. The chop stick caught on fire. Really. I kid you not.
Look at that! And the pan's bottom...well, it was red hot, too. And wavy. And kind of see-through. If it hadn't been such a great pan, it would have been kind of cool. Then, after picking it up...this time I was smart enough to use a hot pad, unlike the time I made ginger-peach oven pancake, which is a story for another time...well, then I had to figure out what to do with it.
I was afraid to put water on it. I thought it might explode or something. I couldn't set it anywhere...it was catching wood on fire! My little hot pad would have been no match. So I took it outside and set it on the bricks and retrieved it this morning. It's not salvagable. Drat.
No more boiling water for me.
Then there was the toothbrush. Okay, some of you know, I like new toothbrushes. It makes me happy. I know it's kind of dumb, but I like it. A new toothbrush is super clean and it feels good in your mouth and I get them from my dentist, who's a really cool lady, and that also means I've just been certified cavity-free and my teeth are all shiny and polished. I mean, what's not to like??
I went to open the toothbrush tonight, feeling a little smile coming on. Singing a little "happy new toothbrush to me" song in my head. Then I see this:
And my happy little song screeches to a halt in my head. And my happy little floaty heart sinks. And my smile turns to tears.
Why? Can you read it?
Comfort fit. When Dave and I had just started dating, I was amazed at how affectionate he was. He was like a big, cuddly teddy bear. He liked to hug and squeeze me and pick me up all the time.
In order to understand this fully, you have to understand the guy-that-isn't-there. Dave used to talk to the guy-that-isn't-there all the time. Like when I said something dumb, Dave would turn to the guy-that-isn't-there and say, "Can you believe she SAID that?!" Or if I was winning the argument, he'd appeal to the guy-that-isn't-there and say, "Hey buddy, help me out here." Or when I got mad, I'd roll up an imaginary window and pretend I couldn't hear him, so he'd just strike up a conversation with, yeah, you guessed it, the guy-that-isn't-there.
So this one day, Dave picks me up. Upside down. And I hook my legs over his shoulders and wrap my arms around his waist and snuggle my head under his arm. And he starts to laugh and does a commercial for the guy-that-isn't-there. "Get yours today: COMFORT FIT! No matter how you hold her, she fits right in. Upside down, right side up, backwards and forwards. Every way is the right way. Only one million dollars. Easy payment plans available. Comfort fit. Don't be caught without yours. Money-back guarantee. Call 1-800-COMFORT today." Complete with TV announcer voice. We laughed so hard he almost dropped me.
It became a private joke. You know how sometimes when you hug someone, it just feels extra-right, like they were made to fit right into you? That's comfort fit.
I miss it a lot.