There are a few things which I feel the need to clarify, confess, or otherwise set straight.
1. I do not refer to my husband has McHusband, or McH for short, because he reminds me of a greasy, breaded nugget of chicken. I realize that over the past decade or two, placing the letters Mc in front of any word (ie McMansion) has come to connote cheap, easy or substandard. No comment on the easy thing, but McH is not substandard. No, no, my referring to him in that manner, for those from my mother’s generation (ie my mother), is a direct rip off from Grey’s Anatomy. It is a television show and is wildly inappropriate in terms of all the values I actually hold dear and strive to live, and is probably a huge waste of time, but then there is McDreamy. And, between all of the gruesome medical emergencies and slutting around scenes, there is some romance. Said romance usually involves McDreamy . . . ahhhhh . . . and so I watch. Don’t get me wrong. McH does not sport McDreamy hair. No, I’d say he sports something more along the lines of Prison Break hair. McH is also not a world class neurosurgeon, or any other kind of doctor for that matter. He is a computer geek. But he is a prison-haired computer geek who has been, on more than one occasion, compared to Tom Cruise (to be fair, I don’t really see it — except for the short part). There is actually a teenage girl in my church who recently confessed to me that for the first several years her family lived here, she hated me. She hated me because she thought my husband was dreamy, and I was standing between her and her dream. Never mind the fact she was only, like, 8 when they moved here. So, McHusband he is.
2. I totally staged the picture of Tank Boy in the fru fru getup. He wanted nothing to do with it. No.Thing. If you look back at that picture you will notice that he has a couple fingers in his mouth. He does this only if he is tired or feeling out of his element. He was not tired when I took that picture. I had to bribe him with cake to get him to let me put that stuff on him. Seriously. I had just enough time to snap three shots before he extracted his fingers from his mouth so that he could more quickly rip off the girlie stuff. ‘Twas not easy, considering I needed a decent shot that didn’t really show his face. This paranoia is tricky business I tell ‘ya. Why did I do it? Because I know McH reads my blog while at work, and because I knew it would make him cringe and maybe go “gaaahhh!” in front of his co-workers. Which would make me laugh. Even though I wouldn’t actually be able to witness the cringe myself. So, I guess the answer really is: I’m just mean that way.
3. Many months ago, Septemberish, before I started trying to be more careful about typos and misspellings in my blog, I wrote about being a weirdo magnet. This was not staged. This is true. I gave the long and sordid history, which started with boys in junior high and high school who I referred to as booger pickers. This is what we call hyperbole. None of them, that I know of, were actually booger pickers. Furthermore, most of my best friends during that period of my life were boys, none of whom I would refer to as booger pickers. I don’t know how many of them might have been attracted to me in a more-than-friend kind of way, but even if they were, I wasn’t referring to any of them. So, I must apologize in case any of them read my blog and think I was talking about them. I apologize to, and was not talking about: R., M., G., K., K., J., C., R., D., B., T., G., J., C., G., J., K., A., E., F., H., I., L., M., N., O., P., Q., S., U., V., W., X., Y., and, especially, Z.
4. I recently indicated that the menfolk in my family proved that all men are brain damaged by choosing to go watch McH in his Mixed stupid Martial stupid Arts stupid Fight. Truth be told, I’m glad they were there. If anything bad had happened . . . well, I’m glad they were there.
5. I love that point in a child’s language development when s/he begins using pronouns correctly. It is cute and delightful.
And George, if you’re out there, Tewt the Newt says hello.