Story Number One
I was on my way to work yesterday morning, accelerating down the Loop-101 on-ramp when three pigeons decided to stop for a rest in front of me.
"No!" I cried. "Don't stop there! I will hit you and smoosh you to smithereens!"
They didn't stop for long. Almost immediately they sensed impending danger and took off, but one of them was not fast enough.
Thump! BOOM! Splat! So long pigeon.
I didn't cry. It was a pigeon. Instead I called Tony and told him about the poor fat pigeon that didn't have enough sense not to land in front of a car, nor the athletic prowess to fly away at the speed of light in order to save his own life.
Story Number Two
Yesterday after work I went to the Ranch Market--fresh produce cheaper than any grocery store in town! While I was there I came across extra large avocados. I had a strong urge to buy one so that I could make some guacamole. I knew that my guacamole craving comes and goes and I didn't want it to go before I had the chance to eat this one, so I bought the softest, ripest avocado I could find.
Today, when I got home from church I decided that I wanted my guacamole for lunch and so I cut open that avocado and proceeded to make guacamole. FAIL. That softest, ripest avocado was nowhere near ripe enough and it wouldn't squish into guacamole. The best I could do was chop it into pieces. I sat there and pouted and whined that it was going to be yucky while Tony heated up his lasagna. Then, Tony said a prayer on the food and specifically blessed my guacamole that we could make it taste good. After the blessing, he proceeded to add the lemon juice and garlic salt and tried to squish it a little better. Still, I pouted.
Now, I don't know if it's because I'm pregnant or if it's because my sub-conscious self feels the need to enjoy the last week and a half of being a teenager (I just know Tony won't let me throw any more tantrums starting the 23rd of this month) but Tony started playing martyr ("Here. Eat my delicious lasagna--my very favorite lasagna that is just like my grandma used to make--and I'll eat this guacamole.") and I cried. He continued to play martyr ("I can't eat when you're sad. I can't enjoy my delicious lasagna if you don't like your guacamole.") I stopped crying so that he would eat his lasagna and I ate my guacamole, which was not yummy guacamole.
Fifteen minutes later I realized how ridiculous I had been and I chuckled to myself. I'm so glad I have a husband who can put up with me.