Sauerkraut and I were out on tour recently and we stumbled across a cute little gift shop along the way. While I was looking in another area of the store, Sauerkraut had discovered a section of the store which had an assortment of cast iron goodies. It was then that I heard a ‘Psssst’ sent in my direction. When I turned around, this is what greeted me:
Yes, I know. He’s a cheeky little feller. Usually I am the one who finds these wee gems but on that day, he got me. I burst out laughing and I asked him to hold on to it until I could get my camera phone out to capture this forever hilarious moment. I mean, you just can’t pass up an opportunity like this. Plus, my mind was already writing the blog post.
The connotation behind this tongue-in-cheek plaque is similar to the meaning behind ‘Beware of Dog’. Both serve as a warning that a mean, snarly, and dangerous
bitch being resides within. Enter at your own risk basically. The other residents in the house cannot be held accountable for what may happen if you trespass or come in without an invitation. I like to think that, in my case, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Right, Sauerkraut? Sauerkraut? I can’t hear you ….
Perhaps a better sign for me would be “beware of wife’s mind”. It would serve as a warning to be cautious about entering into a conversation with me; sort of like, ‘talk to this lovely but delusional woman at your own risk’. It is a warning that would let you know that my mind does not work like yours, that it is wired differently, sees things that you may not see (and, no, I do not experience hallucinations but thanks for asking), and asks the most inane questions sometimes. The best way I can explain is by example.
Me: Sauerkraut, I can’t see you.
Sauerkraut: What? I am right beside you.
Sauerkraut: What do you mean, where? I am sitting right here.
Me: I can hear you but I can’t see you.
Sauerkraut: For the love of God, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
Me: * snicker * giggle * snort *
Sauerkraut: What is wrong with you?
Me: You’re wearing camouflage while sitting in your camouflage zero gravity chair! Get it? That’s why I can’t see you. Get it? Camouflage on camouflage.
Sauerkraut: Shoot me now.
Me: I think I’m becoming an albino.
Me: Not that being an albino is a bad thing. No, it certainly isn’t. It’s just that becoming an albino at 53 is kind of an odd thing to have happen, don’t you think?
Sauerkraut: Where the hell is this coming from?
Me: Well, look at me. I’m getting all these white patches all over my body. (This is true. I am losing pigment colour in various places all over my body; small patches here, big ones there, around moles, old scars, etc. It’s rather odd because I am already a pale person who can’t really afford to lose much more colour. I mean, am I heading for invisibility?)
Sauerkraut: Have you mentioned it to your doctor?
Sauerkraut: Are you going to?
Sauerkraut: You might want to leave out the becoming an albino thing, though.
Me: You’re always thinking. That’s why I love you.
Me: Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be tall?
Me: You heard me. We’re both short. Do you ever think about what it would be like to be taller?
Sauerkraut: No, I’ve never been tall before.
Me: Groan. I know that. But, seriously, there has to be some advantage to being tall, don’t you think?
Sauerkraut: Maybe. You could get things off the top shelf.
Sauerkraut: But what if there’s nothing that I wanted off the top shelf? Then being taller would be useless.
Me: There’s always the possibility that you might want something from there. Once I was in a store and I needed something off the top shelf. I didn’t want to bother anyone so I used my cane to get it down. If I would have been taller, I wouldn’t have had to use my cane.
Sauerkraut: But you figured out how to get it down without being tall.
Me: Yes, but I almost knocked myself out trying to do it.
Sauerkraut: You should have asked someone to help you.
Me: I don’t like bothering people.
Sauerkraut: So you would rather risk your life by knocking yourself out than asking for help.
Me: Well, the closest associate was short like me and I didn’t want him feeling bad for not being able to reach the top shelf. I know what it’s like to feel that way. I also didn’t want to be responsible for him realizing that he was short. I mean, what if he didn’t know he was short but, because I asked him to help me because I was too short, he then realized that he was short? All of a sudden he might need psychotherapy.
Sauerkraut: OH. MY. WORD. He would have brought over a step ladder to help you. That is part of his job to help you.
Me: You don’t have to get all testy about it.
Sauerkraut: But you’re being ridiculous.
Me: No, I’m being compassionate. You’re the one who’s being ridiculous.
Sauerkraut: It’s amazing how many women are riding motorcycles now.
Me: Yes. Things have certainly changed for us ever since we got the right to vote.
Me: *evil grin*
Me: Why do you think I always miss the same leg hair when I shave my legs?
Me: Every time I shave my legs, I always miss the same hair on my left shin; I never realize it until much later when I happen to notice this really long hair sticking out just below my knee.
Sauerkraut: I don’t believe this.
Me: Why not? It’s true. I am not making this up. Look, here it is.
Sauerkraut: I don’t need to see it. I believe you. What I can’t believe is that we are talking about this.
Me: Do you think there is some scientific reason or mathematical equation as to why I miss the same hair each time?
Sauerkraut: Maybe it’s your technique. Maybe it’s the way you hold the razor. Try changing it up the next time you shave your legs.
Me: I suppose I could try. It’s just so hard to see when I’m in the shower or in the tub.
Sauerkraut: You just answered your own question. You can’t see when you’re shaving. You need your glasses to see what you’re doing. Try wearing your glasses.
Me: In the shower?
Sauerkraut: Well, no, but maybe when you’re taking a bath. That would probably work. You could also draw a bull’s eye around the hair with a Sharpie.
Me: Ooooooh, both sexy and practical. NOT. Maybe we should invent something to help women shave their legs so they won’t miss the same hair all the time. Like a template for shaving or some type of shower bi-focal goggles with built-in wiper blade thingies.
Sauerkraut: You’re assuming that there are other women like you who also miss the same leg hair when shaving.
Me: Duuuuuh. Not the exact same hair as I miss; maybe they miss a same hair on their calf or on their thigh every time they shave. I don’t know; I just know that I can’t be the only woman who misses the same hair all the time.
Sauerkraut: * deep sigh *
I know what you’re thinking. “God bless that wee feller for putting up with her.” Am I right? But, think about it. How mundane would our lives be if we only talked about the weather or about what’s for supper or about the bills that are due or about the chores that need to be done? Pretty mundane, if you ask me. One thing is for sure, Sauerkraut’s life is far from mundane. While he may never know what is going to come out of my mouth next, he always humours me, goes along with me, and loves me just the same no matter what. And that means my life will never be mundane. I am one lucky gal.
How about you; is your life mundane? What is the craziest conversation that you and your significant other have ever had?