The Ugly Blanket Loses... Again.
Last night, the windows in our bedroom were open and the lamp was on, which meant that insects of all sorts were attracted to the comforts of our little, warm, well-lit room. A big moth was fluttering about near the lamp, and I stated my fear in the moth sticking around all night and eating holes in my wool sweater. Brian guffawed at me and said that moths don't eat sweaters. I said "Yes they do", and asked for a friendly wager to see how strongly he felt that moths don't eat sweaters. We agreed that we would check Wikipedia the following day, and if moths eat sweaters, then we get to leave the ugly blanket behind here in New Zealand, and if moths don't actually eat sweaters, then I have to safely bring back the ugly blanket with me in my carry on luggage when I fly back to Canada. Upon a quick "moth eat wool" search on Wikipedia, it appears that the ugly blanket will remain in New Zealand for eternity. Brian, you should check your sources before making deals like that, especially when you love your barfy blanket so much. Oh, speaking of barf, I spoke to Sarah this morning on the phone and she said that my brother and her and a few other people were all having drinks last night and one of the conversation topics was "the times Dee barfed". Can you believe it? That's pretty cool. I immediately thought of the time I puked at Farmhouse Fun in the Maritimes - spaghetti and beer and Jägermeister don't mix well...
posted by Dee @ 5:28 p.m.
9 comments
9 Comments:
I'm going to pay for another ticket so that that blankie can sit beside you on your flight home.
bz
I can attest to the Farmhouse Fun as I was a witness. I believe I was near the outhouse to experience one of the times. I think there was the time we were walking up the hill to check out the stars in the cold night sky and mid-conversation Dee barfed, then continued talking as if nothing happened. Good times! Then we talked about the two-seater outhouse and how it would be perfect to use if you had to pee and barf at the same time. Multi-purpose!
Poor Dee, though, the next morning it appeared as if she didn't make it to the outhouse as she left us a record of her good night outside the Farmhouse door. And behind the outhouse. And on the hill.
Now I think I know why Sarah slipped down the cliff.
Hmmm... I only remember barfing ONCE at Farmhouse Fun: outside the kitchen door, on the snow, in the negative 25 degree weather, wearing gumboots and my pyjamas... I also recall, ahem, my dear Johnston, that it was YOU who came upstairs and woke me up from my peaceful passing out all curled up in my sleeping bag and offered me a chocolate chip cookie (that I could not say no too) which indeed caused me to "toss my cookies" plus spaghetti plus jagermeister in the first place!
It is with some haziness that I also recall having a terrible morning after that from eating bread and gravy (the "hot chicken sandwich" at the diner), being sick twice more on the drive home (I was driving my car, Johnny), and Britt can attest to the robotic voice "PRAY TO GOD" and celebratory ice cream cones near Truro for making it halfway home.
It is little wonder why they always say, "Fun times in the Maritimes!"
I do like the idea of a two-seater outhouse...
And, no, Brian, the blankie isn't making it anywhere close to home, although I wouldn't mind two seats side-by-side on the twelve-hour flight so I can spread out and get some sleep. Hmm.. perhaps the blankie would be useful as a pillow or a blanket should I get cold... Whoah! What am I thinking?!! No. Nope. The blanket stays in NZ.
Ah, let me step in as a completely impartial party, who also witnessed the chaos at Farmhouse Fun. The spaghetti noodles in Dee's frozen barf were WHOLE. That is a critical detail that seems to have been left out, so far, of this exchange. Good thing I am here (virtually). Johnston, yes, I believe it WAS your proffered cookie that pushed Dee over the edge. And me? Sliding down the hill? Ha! A mere trick of your collective memories. (Though that WOULD explain the cuts on my hand the next morning.)
xo
Sarah
Ah, yes, I forgot that small detail regarding the spaghetti remains corresponding to the lack of effectiveness of my chewing capabilities. Thanks for that, Ms. Pugh. Thanks a lot.
OK, maybe the mid-convo barf was someone else. But I do remember the whole noodles. Gross!
Poor Dee, I'm sorry I made you toss your cookies. It did get me some alone time with a certain someone, so perhaps I should thank you for taking one for the team.
And I will never, ever eat at that place again. Ugh. Sandwiches covered in gravy just don't seem right.
Dear Brian,
In sympathy of your plight, I am graciously offering to mind the ugly blanket until the time comes that Dee, finally, recognizes her love of the beautiful monstrosity. At that time, it will be with great pleasure that I post the ugly blanket back to its rightful owners. All my love,
~Stacy
xoxo
Yes, indeedy. I also recall that gravy-soaked bread with some slimey-looking foul fowl in between the slices. The gravy (and the bird) was kind of gelatinous -- you know, sporting that that sticky, translucent, congealed "ick" look.
And I had to sit there in the restaurant looking at this monstrosity called lunch (er, was that breakfast?)wearing my 2-piece blue flannel pajamas, because I had (so they say) slid down the muddy hill to the beach the night before and not had the foresight to bring a proper full change of clothing.
Yes. Fun times in the Maritimes.
Hey, Johnston, did you know YOUR cookies would make Dee toss hers?
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