Farmer H sat in the La-Z-Boy, silently begging for candy samples. It's not good for him, you know. But since he'd just eaten supper, and had some protein under his belt, I tossed him a miniTwizzler from a multi-pack. Which promptly bounced out of his hands, through the leg-rester, hit the carpet, and flung itself up over a wooden board of the La-Z-Boy frame, and deep under that chair. Farmer H fished it out, though. Which involved rolling under the leg-rester like he was working under a car, and reaching up over his head with his Poparm, to get that mini-Twizzler.
Anyhoo...Farmer H watched me sorting out the goodies on the coffee table. "That's a lot of candy!"
"I know. Welcome to Christmas Eve, when I sort the stocking stuffers around 2:00 a.m."
"I bet that checkout lady thought you were buying it for your grandkids. Did you tell her it's for your 20- and 23-year-old sons?"
"NO! Are you saying I shouldn't send them anything? I'll be sure to put it in their weekly letter. 'Sorry, no treats. Dad says you're too old.'"
"Don't do that! I didn't mean anything by it. Send them their candy."
"Well, HOS's boy is getting some, too. He's a grandchild."
"Yeah. I know. I'll bring that basket over here tomorrow."
Here are the boxes going to the boys. Don't mind the scarring of the table. That was Genius's doing. For a Genius, he's not that smart. It happened at Christmas one year, shortly after we got the table. Genius took my new mouse pad, and said, "See? You peel the back off, and it won't slip." He put it on the coffee table, went to pick it up, and a layer of table came with it. Yeah. It's not the most expensive of furniture. This is a Mansion, not a PALACE!
Hope the boys enjoy their treats. I haven't had a complaint yet.
6 comments:
You're not going to let Farmer H deliver the basket to the grandson. You remember how he "delivered" the Christmas cookies?
You think that table is scarred? You should see my kids kitchen/dining table, which is never, ever used for dining at. Half the polish is worn off and half is scrubbed right down to the bare wood. That was me, scrubbing off unnoticed spills that had been left there to dry for a decade.
I'm not sure I'll recover from the mental image of Framer H wriggling under the chair for a twizzler.
Your boys are lucky to receive so many care packages a year.
Sioux,
OH, NOOOO! I had planned on letting Farmer H be the deliverer! Of course, he still hasn't brought me the basket. Which he found in one of his storage units, with a lot of decorations for assorted holidays. Says he has some plastic eggs, too.
I wonder if I could set a mousetrap in there...it would more than likely be sprung by the time Farmer H drove that basket up the hill, and so HOS's boy would be safe.
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River,
I guess you could call your table "distressed." That's what they say on those home renovation shows. They do it on purpose.
I can't believe he went to that trouble for a Twizzler. I would have tossed him another one. He could have tilted the whole chair over when he got up later to retrieve the first one. I guess he had to have it RIGHT THEN! Thus cheating himself out of having two.
Distressed is in, you know. I have seen them take a hatchet and old chains to beat the new word to get that distressed look. I will not be sending treats north this year. Saving their teeth, you know.
Kathy,
I suppose Genius would be good at distressing wood, if he needed a 10th or 11th hobby to occupy his time. You are really altruistic, not sending those treats...
I've seen artificially distressed furniture and it looks fake to me. They overdo the markings in places where furniture wouldn't normally get distressed. Like those 'pre-faded' jeans that are badly faded in places the sun wouldn't normally get, while the rest of the fabric is still deep blue.
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