Around The HouseWe went for a long ride on the unicycle on Saturday, and after we got home, I was really looking forward to taking a hot shower. I went upstairs, turned on the water, and went to the restroom. I stepped out, felt the hot water, stepped in, and picked up the--brown soap.
I've written about that soap made out of coral reef that Gloria slips in every once in a while. It's primary selling point is that after it cuts you, and least it's abrasive enough that you bleed out, so there's no infection.
I came downstairs, toweling off. "Not again!"
"What?" Gloria asked.
"Flagellants brand soap," I said. Gloria laughed. "The logo on the box was a religious supplicant whipping himself. Did that not cause any alarm?"
Eli 8.6, not surprisingly (given his love for hockey), has decided that he wants to play in a hockey league.
This requires him to learn how to skate.
He learned the basics after one 15-minute lesson (unicycling balance skill FTW), but now he needs to practice. A lot. And there are two ice rinks in town. No frozen ponds or canals for us, since it was 65F today.
Gloria took him to the ice rink two weekends ago, and while she was skating, she fell on her ass. There was some in-house speculation from the ass's owner that the ass might actually be fractured.
Today, they went again. She didn't fall once--until the very end, that is, when some kid veered crazily and ran into her, and she landed on her ass again.
Thus, when she got home, there was much talk of a "fractured butt."
"I need to find a more elegant word," she said. "Posterior, maybe, or derriere."
"Or pooper," I said. Eli 8.6 howled with laughter. Gloria scowled. "What?" I asked. "Not classy?"
"Good grief," she said.
"You have a fractured pooper," I said. Eli was on the couch, gasping for breath. "Highbrow humor," I said. "Next stop: Masterpiece Theater."