The Time I Fed My Husband Broken Glass
September 7, 2023
One thing I discovered during these last few weeks of summer is that my kid is more apt to hang out with me if I regale them with gossipy stories about our family, and I am an exceptional raconteur. This is my area of expertise and my time to shine. I really went all out, pulling from the depths of my treasure trove of wild stories and petty grievances to maximize our time together.
I told them about the time when I was 16 and my dad tied our broken down Chevette to his Datsun and towed me through Northern Virginia traffic to his shyster mechanic and kept yelling out the window at me not to pump the goddamn breaks. I told them about how the Chevette didn’t have windshield wipers so if it rained I had to use a towel I kept handy to whip the water off the windshield while I drove (a stick shift, no less). I told them about how my dad’s idea of exercise was to “walk” our dog Abercrombie by riding a moped through our neighborhood while Abercrombie ran along, barking and pooping in all the neighbor’s bushes. Every time my kid laughed I’d fan out like a peacock and dig deeper for another story to keep the party going.
Once I got through the classics I moved on to the low-hanging petty grievance fruit and told them about the time we went to the Outer Banks and Nanna cut up all the perfectly ripe peaches and put lemon juice and Splenda all over them and ruined them* and I had a fit and still bring it up every chance I get. I really got on a roll but every once in a while I’d pause to self reflect. “It’s interesting to me that I once accidentally fed your dad broken glass in pasta and he has never once brought that up but I still bring up the time he and your Nanna microwaved the potatoes I’d perfectly roasted and they got all rubbery,” I said. “Oh yeah, I remember that,” my kid said, referring to the broken glass, not the potatoes.
Me telling my stories
We wrapped up the summer with a perfect bow. James and JW were exhausted from their trip to the States so we didn’t plan any more travel even though James gets 6 weeks of vacation and opted for a staycation with a couple of overnights to end the summer instead. James and I did a quick trip to Bruges, which is only a couple of hours away, and it was lovely. Then we all went to to Efteling, my favorite place on earth, and we spent the night which is the way to go as you get admission to the park for 2 days, free parking, and the accommodations are amazing. We stayed near the spooky forest. All we had to do was walk along the wooded path from our hotel to the park.
I could have spent last weekend on a yacht in Mallorca if I was better at dealing with people I don’t like, but I’m not, so I didn’t get to hang out on a yacht in Mallorca and this is also why I could never be a Real Housewife. Such is my lot in life.
The Troll King in the Spooky Fairytale Forest
The people I prefer to hang out with
Summer is over but it’s hot as balls. We’re in another heat wave, there’s no AC in this country, and there’s another Covid wave. The kid went back to school today and I know they are going to boil because their school is an oven, which is extremely frustrating because their school just went through a multi-year, many million euro renovation but the builders did not install AC or any kind of ventilation despite the fact that we’ve had record heat waves every year since we moved here 5 years ago. I’m constipated (not related) and I’m reading a book that is essentially a blog post that is pissing me off beyond measure. If I don’t figure out how to write something publishable I’m going to do something rash. The heat makes me spicy.
This morning James and I walked up to Joe and the Juice to sit in the shade and feel the breeze and James sat there patiently listening to my litany of complaints but laughed (good-naturedly) at the part about my having roasted on the non-airconditioned tram this morning (seriously, it was like traveling in a crowded pizza oven) when I dramatically declared that this is NOT A CIVILIZED COUNTRY.
We spent a lot of time working in the garden which is full of slugs and I told James to use an empty oyster shell to hurl one into the neighbor’s garden and he did. This is my favorite thing about James — I’ll suggest something ridiculous and without hesitation he’s like sounds good to me!
James drank many beers in Bruges. We watched In Bruges again before our trip. I don’t really like that movie, but one part makes me laugh so hard — when the Americans are going to climb the bell tower and Colin Farrell has already insulted/fought with them and Brendan Gleeson shows up unaware and tells the Americans they’d better not climb the bell tower as it’s tight and steep and the lady yells “Screw you motherfucker!” This is exactly how I articulate myself when I’m flustered (and otherwise).
In Bruges
We spent a day at the North Sea. It was cold and moody, just the way I like it.
Pirate Shippers Forever!
- Whether the peaches were ruined or simply preserved is still a matter of contention 10 years later.