I have a genetic flaw that makes me want to have a Martha Stewartish type of holiday. I want my house clean, with Christmas music playing softly in the background, the garbage cans are empty, the dog hair is not carpeting the floor, I am wearing matching clothes. Thank goodness, I am always slapped back to reality by having something crazy happen.
This year was no different. I was sweating like a pig and serving food like a short order cook at the Waffle House. I had the table set with my china, the food was finished, our friends were on the way....magic was happening.
Bill came into the kitchen and said, "I like your centerpiece." I said, "Thanks." He innocently asked, "Have you seen it?" I turned and looked.....the cat was smack dab in the middle of the table cleaning her butt. Dang!
Do you know why people serve wine with a dinner? The cook wants to get shitfaced.
I am not a Martha Stewart. I am more of a Lucille Ball.
This year was no different. I was sweating like a pig and serving food like a short order cook at the Waffle House. I had the table set with my china, the food was finished, our friends were on the way....magic was happening.
Bill came into the kitchen and said, "I like your centerpiece." I said, "Thanks." He innocently asked, "Have you seen it?" I turned and looked.....the cat was smack dab in the middle of the table cleaning her butt. Dang!
Do you know why people serve wine with a dinner? The cook wants to get shitfaced.
I am not a Martha Stewart. I am more of a Lucille Ball.
oh my gosh...laughing so hard outloud...love you!
ReplyDelete"The cook wants to..." in your case, because the cat just did. Ahem. Enjoying your posts!
ReplyDelete