My husband spent the morning building a box; a large, heavy, durable box fastened with screws and painted black. So when I got home, he was sweaty, dusty, and marked up with paint. It's for my friend.Ferah is turning forty next month. She is having a wildly funky formal birthday bash in a few weeks. There will be mexican foods, margaritas, and plenty of dancing. I'm planning to wear my wedding dress. It's champagne, cocktail~length, sleeveless, satin, and two years old. I might even wear my veil, cuz it's cool and very would be a funky thing to do, fitting the theme.
Yesterday, my husband and I met at the Mexican restaurant down by the high~school cuz the Yellow Jackets played a home game last night. We were the first few folks to arrive, at 4, well before the dinner crowd. Normally, we both are very careful not to drink and drive, but we figured since kick~off was at 7:30, we had a few hours. I was gonna get a margarita, but then my husband decided to have one too. So we ordered a pitcher. A half~dozen swallows into his, my husband decided he didn't want anymore. So I drank the entire pitcher. Minus a half~dozen swallows.
Then, I went to the football game. I have to say, it was the drunkest I've been in about ten years. And it was the best time I've ever had a game. I was very energetic by the end of it, the buzz was dying off, I thought, and so I drove to WalMart, my husband followed me. If I had doubts, I would have left my car and come home with him and returned in the morning.
It turns out, while I was in WalMart, that I realized that the buzz hadn't really worn off at all. It was lying dormant. Once I started to walk around, all that blood got to moving around and I told my husband that I wanted to buy my friend, Ferah, the one who turns forty next month, the one I mentioned in the beginning of this, a pamper me kit for her birthday.
He supported my decision to load the cart with liquid soaps, bubblebaths, shampoos, conditioners, lotions, facial scrubs and masks, shower~poofs, candles, baby oils, etc. Basically all the accouterments you'd need for pampering a girly~girl. But they didn't have a basket big enough. So I tossed around the idea of loading it all in a rectangular laundry basket, displayed with tissue paper and then my husband, my wonderful husband, said, "ya know, I could build her a box. Ya know, a pamper box, with all her pamper stuff."
Sure, that sounds great! And is incredibly sweet. So we finally get home around MIDNIGHT. At 9:30 this morning, my husband wakes me so that I can make it to the BookMart by ten, cuz I told the fiber friends I'd be there. He then builds this box for Ferah and all her lovely stuffs.
Turns out, this box is heavy. The stuff is heavy. I think we will have drive to B'ham, sneak the stuff and the box into her house, load it and all that once it is on the table, cuz there is no FRIGGIN' way that we can carry that. We'd need a hand~truck {a dolly}. Or a wheelbarrow. Or the Incredible Hulk. On crack.
So my husband and I are staring at the box, and he turns to me and says, "you can tell Ferah that I spend all morning playing with her box, in the driveway." I replied, "she'd like that."
Funny! Heh!Heh!
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