Monday, October 13, 2008

Who Loves You, Baby?

So, autumn is in full swing here in the Northeast. Some people seem to feel we’ve reached our “peak”:



…although it still seems a bit too green to me….and I’m of the belief that no-one has the right to tell anyone when they’ve reached their “peak”…for whatever that’s worth.

Although I may not be the best person to ask, as I am the staunchest of resistors to the season-that-comes-after-autumn…(and can someone puleeze Photoshop out these freakin’ phone wires? They’re very distracting…)

The other day, I made the “ultimate sacrifice” in the name of mom-dom: I built an outdoor fire in our firepit and sat there…somewhat patiently…whilst the boys gorged themselves on toasted marshmallows. I am not a fan of the marshmallow…whether it is toasted or…well, not.

Unless of course, it’s the Stay Puft Marshmallow man:


…then I’m totally down with it, as he is rather fetching…in that plump-sailor kinda way. I couldn’t help but wonder who first came up with the concept of piercing a marshmallow on a recently-scavenged (and possibly recently-peed-on-by-unknown-wild-animals) stick and placing it in the fire until it is literally ON FIRE, then blowing said flaming-marshie out and proceeding to consume it. I mean...how did they know that marshmallows would burn in the first place?

I’m sorry…but, whose idea was this? And, more importantly…have I used the word “whose” inappropriately? It’s one of the (rare) times when I wish I had an editor on hand, as I’m occasionally plagued with moments of self-doubt…and I will undoubtedly wake in the middle of the night convinced that I’ve screwed up the entire site by using yet another piece of incorrect grammar.The whole purpose of a blog is self-expression…and yet…

Someone feel free to chime in. (JH? Foyce?)

ANYWAY.

Evidently, from the flaming-marshmallow, it was just a hop, skip, jump and one big whopping bunch of dead brain cells later to the thought of the s’mores….which seems to be a natural one-two thought process for any male under the age of 13 whenever the word “marshmallow” is uttered. So, now the marshmallow by itself is no longer satisfactory….it must be accompanied by chocolate and graham crackers to be sufficient bonfire-fare.

No matter….the boys suffered through the indignity of eating marshmallows sans the rest, as I’d neglected to purchase the crackers and the idea of the drippy, melting chocolate snuffing out the fire was enough to convince them that marshmallows alone was better than no marshmallows at all. (Yes, I can paint quite the mental picture of chocolate-inspired-mayhem when I want to, yessireebob.)

…and there, my friends…is your catchphrase for the day: “Marshmallows alone are better than none at all.”

God, I’m wise….

jh said...

Oooh, I love marshmallows! Can I come over?

Kathryn said...

Anytime, baybee! Anytime...

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