So guess what I have now?
That's right, stupid beef air. On account of hosting yet another family party (can I be done yet?) and needing to slow cook half a cow for the entire afternoon.
Beef air is nearly as toxic as taco soup, as it permeates hair, ceilings and missionaries just as intensely. But it's a little bit classier. A little more discerning. A little less onion, and a little more bouillon.
Beef is pretentious.
Beef is arrogant.
Beef is British.
Beef thinks we should be "grateful" to have it lingering in our home, as it lifts it's nose in the air and sniffs it's own...aroma (bum.)
But beef is mistaken. Beef is not welcome in my home~only on my grill. Unfortunately, beef oozed in under the pretense of "making a good impression." Sneaky, swarthy beef. And so we must NOW open our arms to embrace Febreze air freshener and left over Christmas candles. Which makes my house a full on sweaty adolescent boy who has drenched himself in Hollister cologne, thinking nobody will notice the B.O. undertones. That which is not removed must be concealed. Ew.
But speaking of Christmas (clear up there at the top of the blog~I think~or, wait, maybe I just intended to mention Christmas~oh, yup, there it is in the previous paragraph connected to candles)~it's time to un-decorate. Which is a source of frowny-smiles all around.
Frowny because it means no more frenzied snort and snarf of deep fried/chocolate covered/nougat filled/totally righteous because it's all about Jesus holiday feasting.
Smiley because I will be forced to self-medicate (credit card encased capsules) for my oncoming Winter time blues. (You can't be too careful with your emotional health, people.)
Frowny because it means the essence of missionary son will be packed away with the holiday fare~ne'er to resurface "The way he were." (Mem~ries...)
Smiley because when the kids return to school, I will~once again~return to my golden hours of bra-less, maternity under-garment, flying nun hair and wandering aimless alone moments.
So as we head into this new year, new day, new numbers written on checks, let us all have a moment of silence and do the frowny-smile together. A fond farewell to the past (wave, wave)...a hopeful joy for the future (fingers and legs crossed)...all slowly poured over a GIANT, PERFECTLY FROZEN PILE of NEW YEAR'S RABBIT POOP ICE!!!
See friends? It'll aaaalllllll be OK.
HAPPY NEW YEAR, SWEETHEARTS!