Friday, November 29, 2013

Even Juno's Nose Has Better Manners

Oh, dear. Our beloved Hick has committed yet another Thanksgiving faux pas. I know! Who ever would have suspected that might happen?

Yesterday, after dinner, we were all hanging out in my mom's family room. Mom had magnanimously cranked her thermostat to a sweltering 73 degrees for this grand occasion. Hick flopped down in Mom's recliner and, when she inquired as to whether he was comfortable (!), stated, "Well, it's a little cool in here." Let the record show that the rotating vertical space heater cylindrical gadget was already pointed at Hick, courtesy of the Genius. Mom gave him her blue plaid fleece throw so the delicate hothouse flower would not perish on her watch.

There we were, sprawled about, watching a marathon of Alaska: The Last Frontier on The Discovery Channel, when Hick started the pre-sneeze, "Ahh...ahh...ahh...CHOO!" At the final CHOO part, he ducked his nose and mouth into Mom's blue plaid fleece throw. Your horror cannot surpass my own.

"What are you doing? That's Mom's blanket! She covers up with that every night while she watches TV!"

"I didn't hurt it. I was trying to get my mouth down in my shirt collar. But my hands were all tied up here by this blanket. I didn't hurt nothin'."

"Now Mom can't sleep until she washes her blanket! Hasn't she done enough for us today?"

"Oh, you're making a big deal. It's fine."

Really? The rest of us shot our eyes, with Uncle-Leo-Magic-Marker-worthy eyebrows arched. Really? Nobody wants to cover up with Hick's used snot. To add insult to the inflicted injury, Hick folded up that blue plaid fleece throw and laid it on the back of the couch. So Mom couldn't even tell which end was infested with Hick's nose cooties.

She later reported that as soon as we left, she picked it up with thumb and forefinger, and dropped it by her basement door, so she would remember to take it down and wash it before wrapping up in it again. My sister the ex-mayor's wife saw her grab it, and shouted, "You're not going to use that without washing it, are you?"

No. Thank goodness, Mom knows proper Hick Cootie Disinfecting Protocol.

But we won't end it there. On the way home, I sensed a noxious odor spreading throughout T-Hoe's interior. Hick looked in the rearview mirror. "PONY!"

The Pony looked up from his laptop. Sighed. "Seriously?"

"Stop it. I drive numerous hours with The Pony, and I can report that only about once per month does he have a little gaseous release issue. Whereas you, on the other hand, have one at least every other time I ride with you. That's 50% of the time! Compared to 3% of the time. You know you did it. Stop leaning over. You'd better not do that again. Stop laughing!"

Today I picked up Mom to go for a ride with me on my bill-paying run. The Pony opted to stay at her house and soak up high-speed internet. I filled her in on Hick's on-the-way-home antics. She acknowledged that she used to think I exaggerated a bit about Hick. And even though she got a laugh out of the Horse-Donkey Incident, she was starting to see that maybe my tales were more fact than fiction. As we started down her hill, Mom sneezed.

"Great! Now I'm going to have to wash my car before I can drive it again. Don't try to tell me it's nothing." That set Mom to laughing. A lot. So much that I felt the need to add a warning: "And furthermore, I'll have you know that The Pony is not with us. So if I smell anything, you don't have a scapegoat!"

I can't believe Mom didn't offer me any money this trip. Oh, she reached for her purse when I went to a drive-thru for a Pony lunch treat. And she DID fork over a Christmas Club check. So I guess I didn't lose my status as the Five-Dollar Daughter.

Somehow, I feel much richer.


  1. Yes, at our house, my spouse does unspeakable things with towels...Uses them and then drapes them on the tub AND the floor...Wipes the dogs' ears out and then drapes them back on the tub AND the floor...Wipes off car parts and then...well, you get the picture.

    And then he wonders why I keep my towels segregated from his, and why I hide them so they can dry out of his sight...

  2. I see a sh*t load of tissue in your future...toilet or nose blowin'. How many times have I told my man to sneeze into the crook of his arm?! He uses his palm, and says, "Hey, at least I covered."

    This week we've been in competition for whose sneeze is the loudest, who's used the most Kleenex, who is more sick, Well, we all know the answer to that one.

  3. At least Hick isn't a serial sneezer. When I sneeze it's almost always three times.

  4. Aww, sweet family times! I spent the entire day alone. I cooked, He, who was the only one on call for stranded motorists, took a 15 minute break to swallow the dinner I slaved over and was off again. He came home late and ate pies and more dressing and turkey, then went to bed. If he sneezed or released any gas, I was unaware of it ......

  5. Sioux,
    Eww! You had me at "wipes the dogs' ears out." A wet towel ain't safe in a family with men.

    If you have a stand-up paper towel holder, I'll wager that you also have a collection of four dark fingerprints on top of the roll.

    We know there's no winning that competition. He will have a combo of Ebola, the Spanish/Hong Kong/bird/swine flu, whooping cough, cholera, dysentery, consumption, and a hangnail...while you only have a slight tickle in the back of your throat.

    Oh, but he IS! Hick must be under the weather. Only two sneezes were eked out in this blue plaid fleece throw episode. I think his record is 19 in a row, in T-Hoe, on the way home from a going-away dinner for Genius.

    You poor dear. At least you had your furry family for companionship. It's amazing how fast that food disappears. Like you're hosting a banquet for a magician.