Ewwwwww

Before I get started with what this post is really about, I have to relate something funny that just happened.  We are going over to Tim and Ann's house to watch horse racing and eat.  Bud decided he wanted to make a tomato sauce and meatballs so we could either have meatball subs or get some pasta and eat it that way.  Now (follow along here because it gets a little wayward for a moment), there aren't a lot of things I can do around the house as far as housework is concerned, but I do manage to get the laundry washed and dried and at least sorted, if not folded and put away.  So I was sitting here this morning and I noticed the clothes dryer is running.  I had heard the washing machine, but it didn't really register.  I asked Bud what he was washing, and he replied "a load of shirts".  I said, "oh, okay".  Then he added without any further prompting, "I needed to wash my long sleeved red shirt so I can wear it today since we are eating red sauce and it won't show up so much when I drip it on myself."  I love this man.


I wrote the paragraph above on Saturday.  Today is the next day.  Maybe not the first day of the rest of my life, but it is the day after I wrote the previous thought.  And, I must venture down one more side road before we get back to the subject.  We went to Tim and Ann's for dinner last night and, of course, Rita and Harold were there.  I told Rita I was gonna squeal on her in my blog, so I have to follow through on my threat.  Rita showed up yesterday wearing black shoes and brown socks!  Now are all of you completely shocked?  I know I was.  Any of you who actually know me, know how much of a fashion plate I am.  If Rita had not felt compelled to point out her little fashion faux pas, I certainly would not ever have noticed.  I probably would not have noticed if she was wearing one purple sock and one green one.  Nor would I have cared if it had registered.  I wasn't even wearing socks.  I had on a long sleeve t-shirt, long pants, and flip flops.  I do have a pair of white socks that have a separate section for the big toe so they can be worn with flip flops, but they were dirty so I went with no socks.  I know Rita is now embarrassed that I have outted her lack of fashion sense to the entire world (all eight regular readers).


Okay, back to the subject.  A few days ago I was eating a 100 calorie, butter pecan ice cream on a stick.  Butter pecan is my favorite ice cream and the ones with only 100 calories are really not so bad.  After I finished eating all the ice cream I, of course, started licking the stick to make sure I got every teeny tiny bit.  For some reason that brought to mind my sister Cindy who has a really unusual aversion to things wooden.  She would not have been licking that stick.  I wonder if she would even have touched the stick to put the ice cream in her mouth?  I only found out about this disinclination recently but apparently she has had it for awhile.  She does not use wooden spoons in her kitchen.  I guess since I don't use anything in the kitchen I shouldn't be critical.  I wonder does she object to wooden salad bowls and stuff?  Anyway, once I started thinking about how wooden things make her cringe, then I started thinking about the things that effect me.


We have a rule in our house.  If one of the dogs has diarrhea, I clean it up (well I did until it got to be pretty chancy for me to bend over and stand back up again), but if one of the dogs upchucks, Bud has to clean it up because I will just add to problem.  Now that I am nauseated almost constantly, it is so much worse, but I have never been able to handle vomit.  As a matter of fact, I'm not good with almost all bodily fluids.  I don't have a problem with blood, but anything slimy and squishy is guaranteed to get an bad reaction.  It's a very good thing Cathy is the doctor in the family.  I'd never make it through the first round in the ER.  Even though I don't have a problem with blood, I don't watch any of those slasher movies.  It isn't that it makes me sick, it's just all so excessive, over the top and completely unnecessary.  One really bloody movie I actually enjoyed (and Bud hated) was From Hell starring Johnny Depp.  Of course, I would enjoy Johnny Depp if he just sat there and stared at the camera for two hours.  Still, I didn't think the blood in the movie was gratuitous; the movie was about Jack the Ripper after all.


I also have a serious issue with certain textures, which is what I think Cindy objects to with wooden things.  I cannot tolerate wet bread.  If my sandwich or burger or whatever is served on or with bread or a roll and that bread or roll gets wet I will throw the entire thing out.  I cannot eat okra because it is slimy.  My sister Cathy says she can make fried okra that isn't gooey, but I have no use for that little veggie and I'm not gonna try hers just to find out.  I don't eat gumbo since most of it has okra.  Some people put okra in Brunswick stew, which just ruins the whole thing.  I used to think asparagus was slimy, but Bud has found ways to fix it so it is crunchy and has a nutty kinda flavor.  I don't eat it often, but as long as it isn't viscous I'm okay with it.


I don't have a problem with snakes or spiders like many people, but I will get almost catatonic if I find a tick on me.  We live in the country and we have dogs.  Ticks are a way of life, but I cannot even think about ticks without getting chills.  Which leads to a subject for another post someday -- irrational fears.  Though it is not irrational to fear ticks, they can be the cause of some very serious physical problems.  Maybe next my post will be about fears and things that go bump in the night.