Friday, November 14, 2014

Pill shaver-

You probably don't even know what a pill shaver is. Well, perhaps I'm not giving you enough credit. What is it?

No, silly. It does not shave the pills you eat. It shaves the tiny balls of lint off your sweaters/sheets that accumulate when you don't want to have to pick them off one by one by one. It's been a long time coming.

Charles would tell you, I'm pretty weird about my covers and sheets. Whenever he gets tucked into the sheets, I reach over and untuck him. When the 5 layers of sheets, comfort, warmth, and style we call our boudoir get into disarray, I smooth them back underneath the pillow nest until our nightly appointed slumber.

Lately, the blue sheets- not the pink cupcake sheets- have gathered together a mutiny of pills by our designated foot area. You may think  "Big deal. Who cares? What's the problem, Boblem? Well I care, and it's been driving me nuts. Pecans not the other kinds, because I'm allergic to some of those. Anyway, I could never pick them off one by one. They're too small and I have tiny arms. I don't think you thought this through. Master. And besides that, I don't have that type of patience. Out of all my projects, have you ever noticed any homemade miniatures for my (whispered) shadowbox? No, it stands empty on our crafting table, taunting me every time I look inside.

So last night, I got all crazy when I changed the cupcake sheets over to the blue set and got out our new...ba da da da!!!!! pill shaver. It worked like a charm. I can't wait to use it on that flesh colored sweater I own that's notorious for pill accumulation. That sweater has a serious drug problem.

Actually, I have to come clean for a second. Our (whispered) shadowbox is not completely empty. It currently has some rings from Ashley's Halloween cupcakes- they were super cute. It also currently displays some mini candy boxes from Jacob and Katie's wedding reception- they're shaped into little groom and bride bodies. Super cute. Perhaps it will become our holiday (whispered) shadowbox.

Tonight we are going to an ice cream social. Unfortunately, I've become a bit of an ice cream snob. In my younger days I loved ice cream. Due to some tifs and misunderstandings between me and ice cream, we have become less easy friends and have become more awkward acquaintances that text every once in a while. I have become more of a connoisseur and less of a gorger. How in the world did I spell connoisseur right on the first try? Let it be recorded I wrote that word correctly the first time. That must be some kind of record. Get this girl some ice cream.

However, let it be Tillimook Mudslide or some such lovely flavor, not Rocky Road or pistachio. I know, those other kinds have nuts, so I shouldn't eat them anyway, but those nuts always seem to stick in one's molars for hours before becoming unceremoniously dislodged by a person's (hopefully) nightly flossing regime.

Charles recently talked a stranger lady into trying TM while looking over her shoulder to see if it was on sale during a recent visit. That one loves ice cream. And I fear, I have also begun passing on the snobbery to him. Woe. Woe to the land of ice cream. Unless ice cream does not like to be eaten, but such is the purpose of food, so it must be in want of consumption. Wot. Otherwise, what would be its purpose and meaning? The meaning of life for ice cream is delight. Not a knife fight. Sticky. I do not like being sticky. Picky. Quite.

And what's the deal between moths and butterflies? Why does the ugly cousin get such a bad rap? You see a butterfly and think "I live in a magical wonderland". You see a moth and thi-SMASH!!! No more moth. I would have to admit that butterflies are majestic and colorful. You never see butterflies in your house, eating your sweaters- with and without pills- and living in old bags of wheat. Bleeh. It just gives me the shivers thinking about moths. The moth pictured below is known as the red velvet moth. Actually, I made that up. But doesn't it remind you of red velvet cake? Yeah, like I said.

Next time I see a moth, I'm going to say "Hey moth, go get butterfly. We love him. Bring him over and you can totally hang with us." Then SMASH. Seriously, you win twice. First, because you have a magical woodland creature flying around you because, for the love, you killed his cousin. Second, you got rid of a pesky moth. What's not to love about this scenario. You even get a fresh batch of glitter out of the deal because everyone knows that's where glitter comes from. Haven't you ever killed a moth? It's a sin to kill butterflies.

On my mission, my companion would kill butterflies. Then she would encase them in clear tape and make them into bookmarks. I would just pick up dead butterflies I saw on the street. Weirdly, instead of picking up coins on my mission from the street- almost never happened- I would find flowers and butterflies and put them into my weekly planner. That's what I did on the road.

These days I don't pick up change in the parking lots and on the ground. For some reason, I feel like money in California is dirtier than Missouri money. Is that Statist of me? Anyway, I will only pick up coins of a nickel or more. Or perhaps, instead of changing areas, it is more a change in my state of mind. I have grown up a little bit. High minded and the like. You know how I do.

Apparently this is a trend evidenced not only by my inability to ignore pills, but also in my ice cream preferences. I enjoy nice things. So sue me. Actually, I've said this before, but don't. I'm not as rich as the ice cream I prefer.

1 comment:

Rach said...

Tillamook mudslide is the only way to go. Seriously, that chocolate ribbon at the very bottom of the carton?! Heaven.
I'm totally becoming a snob with my iced cream as well. We recently bought a gigantic tub of mint chip because it was cheap and why not have more of a good thing? But yeah, it's not that delicious. But I eat it anyway. In large quantities. Because I have a problem.