In case you were worried sick, I am still on vacation in Colorado. I did not storm home in any sort of family drama huff or anything. In fact, we went to my Aunt Mary's downtown–not that she owns the downtown, and why not? Doesn't it irritate you that none of your relatives are filthy rich?–and did a little (wait for it) shopping yesterday.
As promised, my father checked out the downtown bar. He was back in five minutes, though, as apparently the only other patron in there was some guy with an oxygen tank, drinking coffee, and when my father sat down he nodded hello at Dad. Then a few minutes later he nodded hello again, and then Dad noticed he nodded hello to his invisible friends next to him and was mouthing words but no sounds were coming out. It really wasn't the jovial I'm-drinking-while-the-womenfolk-are-shopping scene he was aiming for.
So he joined us, and ate a lot of the free donuts and suckers offered at various stores. Which is just as good as four beers in a dark bar. Don't you think?
I did not buy anything. Truth be told, Marvin and I are saving up for a screen door. I know. We really know how to live large. But we need a screen back door so bad. I want an old wooden flappy one that I will inevitably purchase off eBay or Craigslist or something. Remember the screen door on The Waltons? It always gave that satisfying smack when Erin or Jim-Bob ran out the door.
From now on I want you to call me June-Bob.
I also want one of those metal screen doors with the initial in the middle. I love those. I don't even care if it's not my initial. Marvin, if you're reading this, go look on Craigslist. How much could those screen doors be? No one wants them but us.
The point of this whole drawn-out tale is that eventually we came back home and were sitting around talking and paging through magazines and such when all of a sudden my Aunt Mary became hysterical. She laughed and she laughed and she laughed, and I noticed she had one of those old lady catalogs, which I have blogged about before, how we enjoy those old lady catalogs my grandmother used to get.
My aunt was in a heap on the couch, so I took the catalog out of her weakened hand and found this:
These are pieces of charcoal you stick to your underwear. When pesky gas occurs, these absorb any odor.
I am not making this up.
I mean, how bad are things in your rear parts that you need this? And I can't help thinking of when my grandmother got old and ceased to care, and would just lean way over in her chair when flatulence came on.
My father pointed out that a better name for this product would have been Tooty-Fruity.
So that's been our sophisticated weekend. This is probably what the Hemingways did when they got together, too. For Whom the Bell Toots.
Anyway. Today is my aunt's actual birthday, and we are going to the Farmers Market and then my father is making a fancy dinner and I cannot wait for Aunt Mary to open my gift. It's a good one. I forgot to tell you she gave me my birthday present when I got here, and it's a beautiful ruby and diamond necklace! I guess I got a fancy gift cause 45 is one of those milestone birthdays. You know, sort of.
I am off to market farmers or whatever. And to pass wind into a briquette.