There are things we will not discuss.
We won't discuss sex.
We won't discuss finances.
We won't discuss politics.
We won't discuss the benefits of paying with cash.
We won't discuss sex.
We won't discuss ill stories about anyone.
won't discuss the monthly curse.
We're discussing the monthly blessing.
I said I wouldn't do it, but I lied.
Bennie ceased nursing a few months ago. With that, my friend returned. No big deal. It has not been consistent, it has not been pleasant. It has been one of those things that comes with life. While down here on the funny farm, my friend reared her head and said, "HELLO! Staying with the in-laws for a few days, are we? This seems like the perfect time to come visit."
My suitcase is always stocked with the necessities- wine opener, extra pair of socks, lip gloss... you know, the essentials.
I venture into the bathroom that is off of his sister's bedroom. Surely, there would be something in here that I can use. Surely-- surely... Shirley? Shirley is a liar. There is a box from circa 1994 with two left. In such straits, I contemplated. And then thought better of it. Not brave enough to search my in-laws bathroom for goods because, really? What if I find something else? Something other than what I needed. A bathroom is no place to go snooping. I come to the conclusion that there will be a trip into town in my immediate future.
My personal trip into town turns into my two daughters, my husband, my mother-in-law, and my father-in-law all heading into town for lunch, some shopping, and my "quick trip" into the drug store to pick up "nothing." We walk and shop around downtown before the family gets ice cream and I mention that I am going to swing into the Family Drug Store "real fast."
"We'll wait right out here for you."
In I go and there they sat, eating the ice cream and waiting on me. What could I walk out of here with that could be any more embarrassing?
Nix or any other lice prevention? (I'm itching right now at the thought of this)
Any number of lubricants?
Justin Beiber Greatest Hits CD?
Nope- just me and a box of $12 tampons... waiting in line, with my in-laws, my husband, and my children waiting outside, eating ice cream.
It dawns on me, in this moment, that I am a walking Robert Earl Keen song. I am instantly punch drunk with my box of tampons, waiting in this cursed line while my in-laws, my husband, and my children sit outside- waiting for me.
The cashier rings me up and asks if there is anything else.
"Do you have any Salem Lights?" and I start giggling.
"No, no Salem Lights."
"Can of fake snow?"
"No... no fake snow."
She doesn't know who Robert Earl Keen is.
Little sister might not have brought home a Mexican boyfriend, but there was plenty of champagne punch, homemade egg nog, bean dip, and more than one trip to the Stop and Go. The photographer is on her way to take the family Christmas card picture in a few minutes. Do you know what I'll be saying?