Route1966: July 31, 2005

Buttercups, Babies and Best Friends

Before we could begin dance practice last night, we were waylaid by the following conversation:

Angel says, "I heard they're going to film the whole performance next week."
Fire says, "I'd like to warn you that I am a week and a half overdue for my cycle and I'm not feeling very well."
So I say, "We can wear sunglasses to buy ourselves some anonymity and run down to walmart for an ept after practice."
Angel says, "How much weight does a movie camera add to your hips?"
Fire says, "How long does it take an ept to work?"
I say, "15 pounds and 5 minutes. Let's dance, ladies!!"
Angel says, "I think I have a corset somewhere in the garage."
Fire says, "I wore white pants tonight just to tempt fate."
I say, "I don't want to know why your corset would be in the garage, Scarlet and Daredevil, I'm warning you that if your pants change colors I'm going to hose you down with the fire extinguisher. NOW, can we please dance?!"
Angel says, "If you ARE pregnant, what are you going to name the baby?"
Fire says, "Well, we already have three kids, so this one would be our love child. It would have to have a hippie kind of name."
Getting sucked into the vortex, I say, "Oh, pleaseeee can we call her Buttercup!!! Wait, if it's twins, how about Adam and Eve?!"

And the resulting laughter prevented us from accomplishing anything productive, despite the threat of film crews, fame and fortune ... which is all worthless anyway without the companionship and love of your friends ... and I wouldn't trade either of them for all the prime time in the world.

There's No Place Like Home ...

Saying that I have never been adept in the kitchen would be a gigantic understatement, but I'll say it here anyway to set up my story. I have had a problem with the stove since the day we moved in. In particular, I cannot seem to get the burner dials to correspond with the burners. Let me be perfectly clear when I say that despite the stove having come over on the Mayflower, it is in perfect working order. I, however, am not. Upon my return from Nevada, I determined to make cinnamon rolls, eggs and bacon for Sunday breakfast. It was going quite well, or so I thought, when MR. Morticia (aka Martha Stewart in boxers on Sunday Mornings) strolled into the kitchen.

"Honey, when is breakfast going to be ready?"
"I turned the stove and the oven on at the same time, so when the timer buzzes, it will be ready."
"Did you remember to turn the pre-heat to bake this time?
"You're never going to let me live that down, are you?!"
"I just want the rolls to be edible this time."
"HUMPH!!"
"Now, about the bacon."
"I told you I turned the burner on. It just takes a little time to heat up. That's why I hate this stove!!"
"Sweetie ... "
"NOW WHAT?!"
"You turned the burner on, all right, but you didn't put the pan on it."
"AUGHHH!!"
"Welcome Home, Darling!!"