Let’s get off the subject of sex, considering reading or talking about it either makes you want to do it right now, or never, ever do it again.
Either way, there are other recommendations for conversation, as the telling of tales is a big part of the Kudzu Queen Lifestyle.
Lately, I have had the royal idea (all queen ideas are royal) of painting our kitchen cabinets the color of coffee. You may holler in delight at that idea, or wince right in my face, but there’s a good reason.
It has to do with Jesus, as does everything, not with the church kind of Jesus, but the kind of Jesus you throw up to somebody when they are wrong. Or. the kind of Jesus you scream out when something is GOING wrong.
You may also consider Jesus being called out in vain when you finally get enough of someone and tell off a bossy person…as in… “YOU ARE NOT JESUS, SO QUIT TELLING ME HOW I NEED TO ACT!!”
We used to have one of those expensive coffee pots where you have to go to the bank and beg a loan to get it, and then bring it home cradled in your arms like a baby, becoming delighted when it makes a whole pot of coffee in seconds.
How much better a world could we live in? Unless it created vodka or chocolate in seconds, which it is wont to do. If it created coffee and chocolate flavored vodka, that would be even better but since ANY pot is wont to do that miracle, I will explain the reason I must have coffee colored kitchen cabinets.
So, Jesus started getting brought up a lot starting first thing in the mornings as my preciousness does his “get ready for work routine”. Given that he has been doing this same routine since way before he ever laid eyes on me, you would figure he would have it down pat by now.
Wrong.. enter me…..bringing into his formerly simple life various and sundry kids , grandkids, hair products, as many as 200 pairs of shoes, cheap coffee pots, and all manner of feminine things he doesn’t understand or want to understand.
I upset his little life apple cart, except for his coffee in the mornings, made by him, in his sleep, while I remained cozied in upstairs, dreaming of glamorous things such as new tiraras and trips to Jackson, Mississippi where I would stroll the pank carpet in Fondren, signing autographs, being photographed for slick magazine covers, and getting praised the next day by the Fashion Police as better dressed than that slut Sarah Jessica Parker
While she may not be an actual slut, she did connive, chase, stalk, cry to and have repeated sexual encounters with a ‘Mr. Big” in Sex in the City, plus she has legs to die for, of which I am so jealous and maybe that’s why I lowered myself to name calling….…..oh, I digress…….
Cabinets. The natural death thing happened to our expensive coffee pot, and I, being the cheapskate that I am, I proceeded to WallyWood (Our grandchile came up with that one) and got a Mr. Coffee so cheap it didn’t even have a clock on it.
It was fine with me, but somehow upset my husband’s whole life plan. Every morning would be punctuated by shouts of “JESUS!!” which I didn’t question for a few days, as I figured since my brother in law is a Baptist Preacher, maybe my husband was downstairs doing a Baptist Breakfast, as Baptists have been known to do that sort of thing.
After days of hearing him praise Jesus while drinking coffee, I decided either he REALLY was enjoying the coffee or that Mr. Coffee was up to something way above the price I had paid for him. That, or something needed to be investigated.
We have a two story house which has made stalking, skulking, and spying an art. Sound travels well due to the high ceilings, and one can look down upon almost the whole bottom floor without detection if they remain noiseless, which I deigned to do one early morning, as my husband drank coffee and praised Jesus mightily.
I was hoping he was thanking Jesus for the wonderful wife he had, but lo! Looking over the rail, I discovered him “Spilling COFFEE all down our formerly pristine kitchen cabinetry, then screaming for Jesus, then running around grabbing anything handy for wiping!
My preciousness was spilling coffee all over everything, every morning…calling out for Jesus, wiping as best as a man can wipe, then walking to the couch while coffee dripped down the side of his cup and onto the floor!
It did not encourage me to see our three dogs follow him and lap up the spilled coffee. No, it did not.
So, a trip to Lowe’s for coffee colored paint is in my future plans. I brought Jesus up myownself when I mentioned this paint to my preciousness, who
kinda said no, like this: “These cabinets look fine the way they are, and what if we don’t like it after we paint them?”
To which I screamed for Jesus and all the apostles, went to a thrift store, got a piece of a white door and slathered it with brown paint.
Then the distressing idea hit me, and I allowed the grandkids to beat with a hammer, sand, grate, dig in, and scrape, the wooden door. It became beautifuller and beautifuller according to them, and we hung it in the bathroom to hold some queenly bling.
When my preciousness saw this distressed door, he quit screaming out for Jesus. I know everyone should call on Him, but I figure even Jesus is tired of the coffee spilling prayers, as they were loud and not real prayers anyway…..
Our Lord is probably real proud of me for causing enough drama to put a stop to it.
I know my honey still spills coffee, albeit more quietly and with much less religious fervor involved, because the streaks are all there, faint but noticeable, no matter how much wiping he does. Bleach is the only thing that gets it out, and since I am not known for my skill at intense cleaning, it shall come to pass that the kitchen cabinets be painted over not too long from now.
Will let you know how it goes. Someone will surely Face Book the pictures. You will see the Mr. Coffee in the pictures…that troublemaker. I may catch my preciousness as well, pouring coffee all down the cabinets and not calling for Jesus, while the dogs wait for their little sip of coffee off the floor.
