Wednesday, February 02, 2005

It was a brand new half-gallon of Tillamook Chocolate Peanut Butter Ice Cream. I did the shopping for the household, and it was obvious that since Jim had arrived we were consuming, or should I say, he and Tim were consuming something greater than a pint a day, and we were almost out again. I was probably eating my share every couple of days, I was still breastfeeding then, but of course I have selectively forgotten anything about that. It was the Tim and Jim show, every night, they'd act coy, then the bowls would come out while I was getting the baby settled, maybe they'd have just a little they'd agree, as if maybe there was some question involved, and seconds later they'd both be scarfing down three scoops worth each, the same sheepish grin reflected on each of their faces when I walked into the kitchen.

Tim was staying with us while his wife was finishing up her job in Denver and he had needed to relocate to Portland and start his job before her. Jim, Tim's good buddy from Denver, was out for a visit - I wish I remember the whys 'cause I think there was a reason, but at this moment I don't. I just remember their easy banter, sitting on the redwood picnic table out back, joking and teasing each other the way brothers sometimes do, and the odd feeling of being a new mother, a host, and suddenly not Tim's closest friend anymore, and realizing why I couldn't be. But included - I don't want to make you think I felt left out, or even jealous. When they got going on some mimicked Saturday Night Live skit, or bad pun, or silly story all you could do was laugh along.

Or play tricks on them. This was nothing new to Tim by now, he'd been acquainted with my buggy sense of humor for years, but even so, I doubt he could imagine I'd be so diabolical. He was used to it showing up in something innocuous, like a drawer or an envelope or a shoe. Tossed around for fun. I had something worse in mind.

I carefully scooped out a shallow spoonful, placed our friendly 3 inch critter in the hollow, replaced the scoop of ice cream, patted it all down and smoothed out the top, and replaced the lid on the carton. The chocolate peanut butter flavor, their favorite, was great camouflage for it. There are gobs and patties of peanut butter that have a pretty solid texture mixed throughout, so that digging in a spoon, you wouldn't think a bit of resistance was unusual. You'd just dig to the side of it, to be sure you got the whole clump of peanut butter, which would have been fine, until the hairy legs dangled off the edge of the spoon. When this scenario came to fruition, Jim hollered and dropped the spoon and the bowl, hopping backwards. Tim understood immediately the artificial nature of the beast, but Jim thought he had a real, intact frozen bug and isn't that what we all fear most? All those stories about the bugs that get into our food during processing brought to life in that second in our kitchen. Even when it was uncovered and rinsed off, he couldn't eat the ice cream that night.

At that point they declared war on us. My favorite volley was when they concealed my beetle buddy in a sealed box of Corn Chex. Or should I say resealed? Breakfast is a new and interesting experience with a 3-inch cockroach tumbling out of a brand new box of cereal into your bowl at 7AM. (There was a summer in college when I boarded in a frat house and that sort of thing happened for real, but that's another story. Might have something to do with the particular critter I choose to play my tricks with now.) The great thing about a giant rubber cockroach is that, not unlike its real cousins, it can slip into just about anyplace unnoticed. Something about the shape I guess.

So Miguel, while you were voted most likely to marry a cockroach, I would probably earn most likely to parry with one. He's in the drawer by the fridge (unless you are so unlucky as to find him in your dessert.) Only serious marriage proposals from suitable boys will be responded to.

Buy your own here

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?